Wild Angels
by Amiboshi-chan
Summary: Can romance blossom between Miaka, a young New Mexico spitfire who desperately wants to become a lady, and Tasuki, an eastern dude who came west to escape painful memories best left buried in the guilded streets of New York?
1. chapter one

Wild Angels  
  
By Amiboshi-chan  
  
Chapter one  
  
The noonday sun beat down on the chapel, and the carriages and wagons surrounded the building. Missy Brooks sighed, longing to be back home at the Circle B ranch house, which despite the heat of the noonday, would be buzzing with life and excitement.   
  
Heaving another sigh, she watched Suboshi run his fingers around the inside of his high, stiffly starched white collar. He swallowed hard, and then gave her a why-am-I-being-tortured-like-this grimace. It was as plain as the nose on his face that he was as uncomfortable in his fancy duds as she was in her maid of honor dress. Still, they had agreed to get all gussied up for this occasion. And when she thought about it, she had to smile. All the fuss and wearing of stiff lace, starched petticoats and pinching corsets was worth it, because Cyril and Ellen were finally getting married.  
  
The doctor and cautioned them to wait until Ellen had fully recovered from her injury last fall. Then Patricia and Donovan O'Bannion, Cyril's parents, had insisted the wedding wait until the winter weather had cleared. They had arrived only a week past, with Cyril's eldest brother Nakago, his cousin Yui and an assortment of relatives in tow. It was hard to believe that after so many obstacles, Ellie and Cyril were finally going to be wed.  
  
The spinster who had played the organ for every wedding in the territory for the last twenty years suddenly changed tempo. The ancient instrument droned and wheezed, announcing that the time was growing short and all should find a seat.  
  
"Are you ready?" A resonant voice rippled over Missy like a warm summer breeze.  
  
When she turned and looked up at Tasuki McCarty, her middle tightened even more. Ranch life had transformed his easy-on-the-eyes appearance into the lean, uncompromising visage of a true cowboy. His rich amber eyes gazed out at her from skin bronzed by more than a year in the territorial sun and wind. He had the determined, never-give-an-inch look of a work- hardened Western man coupled with the elegant, refined manner of an Eastern dude.  
  
'A deadly combination,' Missy thought to herself.  
  
As good looking as he was, she still would have been hard pressed to pick him out of a crowd of ranch hands without a second look, if not for his unique hair, that mixed somewhere between a rich red and the orange of a flame. He fit right into the crowd, had learned to rope and ride with the best of them. When he walked, his body spoke of strength and confidence. He had succeeded in doing what she'd been sure he could not.   
  
At the beginning she'd teased, and needled and picked on him, but as he settled in and learned to handle himself on the ranch, the situation between them had flip-flopped. Instead of becoming accustomed to being around Tasuki over the long months since he'd arrived, she had found herself growing more and more awkward around him.  
  
Tasuki had slowly begun to get the upper hand at their every confrontation. Now he openly teased her with a wicked twinkle in his eye. And every time it happened, she got all tongue-tied and fluttery. Her only defense was her sharp-as-a-buck-knife Brooks tongue, but even that weapon had failed under the heat of that intense gaze.  
  
"Missy?" He asked again. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Ye-yes—I guess so."  
  
"You seem a little jumpy."  
  
"Only like a tom turkey before Thanksgivin'," Missy admitted softly. She tugged at the snug waist of her dress, trying to give herself enough room to take a deep breath. Cyril and Ellen both had said she looked fine in the form-fitting, peacock blue sateen, but with Tasuki's critical gaze skimming over her, Missy now doubted the truth of their words. Damnation. She wished she could've worn chaps and boots. At least then she could be herself and would be able to inhale normally, instead of having to take panting little breaths. Ellen having her as a bridesmaid had been a dunderhead notion. She wasn't a lady, and putting fancy duds on her skinny form wasn't going to change that. It was like putting a candelabra in an outhouse: it didn't change what was on the inside one bit.  
  
A deep, throaty chuckle drew her attention back to Tasuki. He was staring at her, grinning like a fox who had found a way into the henhouse.  
  
"It is customary for the bride to be nervous, not the maid of honor," he advised her in an easy tone. It could have been friendly teasing, or it could have been that he was mocking her. "Interesting though. I didn't think the princess of the Brooks clan ever had a moment of fear about anything! Could it be that you are only human like the rest of us, Missy?" His eyes glittered with the challenge of his words, and he gave her a devilish half smile.  
  
Now there was no doubt. He was poking fun at her- again! And sure as God had made little green apples, he'd keep on doing it until she flew off the handle and said or did something she'd regret. Even so, spouting off at him wasn't a luxury she could allow herself smack-dab in the middle of Ellen's wedding.  
  
'Consarn him, ' she thought sourly. 'I won't ruin this wedding on account of his fool teasing.'  
  
What was it about this Easterner that got under her skin, anyway? She knew enough to walk away from a coiled rattler or a porcupine, so why couldn't she just turn her back on Tasuki? He was prickly as a porcupine, and the way her belly knotted and her pulse was racing, he must be as deadly as any sidewinder—well, deadly to her, anyway! It confounded her how he could just open his mouth and rile her up. It didn't make a lick of sense. All she had to do was use the brains God gave her and ignore the grinning varmint, but somehow it never worked out that way.  
  
"Well, Missy? Are you?" Tasuki leaned a little nearer and gazed at her with his seductive eyes. "Are you -afraid?"  
  
"I'm not afraid of anythin'!" She snapped, then looked around in chagrin, at the heads that turned to stare at them, due to the volume of her reply. "M- my dress is just tight as a narrow cinch, th-that's all." She continued, lowering her voice to a respectable whisper. "And with all these folks squeezed in here, there's barely a breath of air left." She forced herself to ignore the amusement etched in Tasuki's ruggedly handsome face. "So why don't you quit flappin' your jaws so much and usin' up what little air there is left?" She concluded sassily.  
  
He laughed.  
  
Damn him to hell and back. He had the gall to stand there and laugh. And then he raised a long-fingered, roughened hand as if to touch her. The thought sent her belly dropping to her feet like a stone. Mercifully, his fingers stopped just short of touching her cheek.  
  
"Rest easy, little lady." He said smoothly. "If you swoon, I promise to do my best to catch you before you hit the floor in front of all these people."  
  
Her face grew hotter and all the shallow little breaths she was taking seemed to be hanging in the back of her throat. It took all her control to keep from yelling at him, or slapping his face, but she managed to keep her voice low and controlled, and her hands clenched at her sides.  
  
"I appreciate the offer, Tasuki, but you'll never see the day when I can't stand on my own two feet." Her long, unbound hair tickled her back through the silky material of her dress as she emphasized her speech with an emphatic little nod of her head.  
  
This time Tasuki didn't laugh, but she felt his palpable amusement sluice over her in a scalding wave. Her heart beat a tiny bit faster inside the sateen bodice of her dress.  
  
'Damn him! Double damn him!'  
  
He could affect her with just a look, or God forbid, the hint of a casual touch. And then, just as if he had read her tortured thoughts, he reached out and took hold of her elbow with his bare fingertips. A myriad of uncontrollable emotions rippled through her middle when his fingers tightened around her arm. She promised herself that she would not react, but she stiffened in spite of herself.  
  
"Don't make a bigger fuss, Missy. Everyone is watching." His low warning rumbled over her while his gaze slid around the interior of the crowded Catholic mission, the closest house of God they could find.  
  
Missy followed his line of vision. Just as he had said, the tiny building was full to overflowing, and while not everyone was staring at her, more than enough curious eyes were looking her way.  
  
"Come on, Missy, I won't bite you—"he leaned close enough to whisper in her ear, tightening that possessive hold on her arm. "—but I might nibble a bit around the edges." He breath fanned her earlobe. For a moment she was afraid he would nip her flesh.  
  
'Was she afraid that he would—or that he wouldn't?'  
  
"It's time we took our places, Tasuki." She managed to croak. "Stop all this foolishness."  
  
Tasuki grinned widely, then the deftly maneuvered her and the wide ruffles of sateen up through the narrow aisle. Missy marveled that he got them where they needed to be without tripping either one of them.  
  
She shook herself and blinked. Without quite knowing how time was moving so fast and disjointedly, she realized she was now standing opposite Tasuki in front of the slat thin minister with the too-large Adam's apple.  
  
Missy allowed herself one backward glance. Now every person seated in the small chapel was watching her as she stood at the front of the church, twisting her fingers and plucking at the too-tight, unforgiving waist of her dress.  
  
She whirled back around. She felt like a complete moron-- and she blamed Tasuki for it and for making her feel things that confused and befuddled her.  
  
A murmur of restrained voices, like a cooling breeze over dried leaves, moved through the chapel. Missy turned to see what had caused the stir, grateful that something, anything, distracted the group's interest from her. Then she saw Cyril, and all her thoughts were for him alone.  
  
He looked happy, healthy and more handsome than she'd ever imagined. His sandy blonde hair glowed in the flames of the candles on the altar; his face was flushed with excitement.  
  
The organ wheezed and groaned again. Then with a reverberating sound that tickled the bottoms of her feet, the 'Wedding March' began. Missy followed Cyril's gaze to the side door.  
  
Moving with all the grace of an angel fallen to earth, Ellen appeared in her flowing ivory gown, and Missy felt her heart well up with love for her cousin. She shifted the bouquet of wild lavender and oxeye daisies to her empty hand as she smiled at Missy. The gesture made the hot dry lump in Missy's throat grow larger.  
  
"Let us all bow our heads in a moment of prayer . . ." the minister intoned ". . .and ask God's blessing on this young couple as they embark on the road of life."  
  
Tasuki watched Missy's eyes flutter shut. He half listened to the prayer while he continued to observe her from the corner of his eye. Looking at her now, a feminine vision in sateen, it was hard to believe she was the same razor tongued shrew that had pestered him for the last year—except that he had the emotional bruises to prove it. The little vixen had drawn blood, in a manner of speaking, a time or two. She was feisty and headstrong, the exact opposite of the women he'd formerly pursued.  
  
A murmured amen brought Tasuki's head up. He focused on his childhood friend. He doubted he'd ever seen Cyril happier, perhaps aside from the time he'd told Tasuki he was following Ellen westward.  
  
Cyril's leaving and Violet Ashland's fickle heart had been the catalyst for Tasuki to also leave the city and the pointless pursuits he had once thought of as manly.  
  
After Cyril left, Tasuki had surrounded himself with a flock of beautiful ladies, but none had ever held his attention for more than a couple of weeks until he'd met Violet Ashland. The petite blonde had captured his interest the way no other woman had before...  
  
A nervous cough pulled his attention to the russet haired girl standing opposite him. Missy was a wildcat one minute and a siren the next. She could make him madder than any woman he knew, yet in the whole year he'd known her she had never shown any interest in snaring him for his fortune- or any other reason, he thought with a smile.  
  
'Not like Violet.'  
  
He frowned and wondered where that thought had come from. It was probably the magic of the candles and the organ music and the lethargy of the afternoon. A man would have to be made of iron not to be influenced by the romantic promise of the moment. The trappings or matrimony had resurrected memories that had long been buried, reminding him of his own proposal of marriage.  
  
But that had been another man, in another life. Now his days were filled with work and with fending off verbal arrows from Missy Brooks, who could strip the hide off a man with one look. And yet, he thought idly, under all that bluff and bluster, Missy was honest and brave, the kind of woman to cross rivers and climb mountains with.  
  
Tasuki blinked in bemusement at his thoughts, realizing that he was beginning to sound like Chichiri. The idea that he had learned some wisdom from the irascible cowboy was oddly pleasing to him, and he caught himself grinning.  
  
In the same moment he grinned, he and Missy looked at each other by accident. Their gazes caught, and then held. Her dark eyes reflected the candlelight like a deep, shimmering stream in the first rays of morning. Funny that he'd never noticed how wide and luminous her eyes were until now.  
  
"Dearly Beloved . . ." the tall, lanky preacher's baritone voice filled the chapel. "In sight of God and this company . . ."  
  
Tasuki adjusted the shoulders and front of his black coat and tried to focus on the preacher's words. Missy fidgeted once more, and his attention became riveted upon her.  
  
Was she really that nervous?  
  
'Naw.' The answer came quickly into his head. Missy Brooks was a steady a woman as ever walked the earth. But if she wasn't nervous, then why was her softly rounded bosom rising and falling so rapidly inside the sateen bodice?  
  
He frowned at her in speculation. Then as if she felt his attention on her, she looked at him again, with an _expression so poignant, that he experienced an wild impulse to reach out and touch her.  
  
He shook himself and looked back at the preacher, telling himself that he shouldn't give a hoot in hell how she felt. If she was frightened it was poetic justice. She had given him undiluted hell this past year. It would serve her right if she was stewing in her own juices.  
  
No, he didn't care how she felt. He couldn't give a damn about Missy's feelings- or any other woman's, for that matter. Life out here had let him see that a lone wolf survived just as well as one with a mate, and that was what he wanted now- to remain alone. A lone wolf, free, unattached and pleasantly sane. None of this madness called love for him, thank you. He intended to remain a confirmed bachelor, like Chichiri. Chichiri was a man who knew what was what. He had helped Tasuki learn to rope and ride and learn how to laugh at Missy's sharp barbs.  
  
"Cyril Liam O'Bannion . . ."The clergyman's deep voice gained volume. "Do you . . ."  
  
The nearest group of candles flickered. Cyril leaned over and gave Ellen a little peck on the cheek, quite improper when taking his vows, but the kind of thing Tasuki had grown to expect in this half-tamed place. Here men made their own rules to live by. Now that he had become accustomed to it, he liked it.  
  
Missy shifted on her feet and Tasuki glanced at her again. She was smiling. It was an angel's smile, full of love and innocence. Something hot and liquid coursed through his veins while he watched her face.  
  
"Ellen Irene Brooks, do you take . . ."  
  
The image of Violet Ashland flitted unbidden into Tasuki's head, filling his mind with the memories of life with a cold, elegant woman. Then he glanced at Missy. Where Violet had been cold, Missy ran red-hot. "And her hot tongue will sear flesh, as well," he whispered to himself.  
  
He caught himself smiling at the memory of Missy's frequent outbursts and his determination to prove himself. If he was honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he had come to enjoy their verbal sparring. His taste in women had changed, or maybe he had changed in the rowdy environment of the territory. One thing for certain, Tasuki McCarty was not the same man he had been when he'd stepped off the train from New York. Besides, if the time came that he wanted to settle down-- and he wasn't thinking that it would—but if it did, then Missy would be here. He cast a furtive glance at her.  
  
Yep, he could count on Missy Brooks to be constant and unchanging. She would always be Missy and she would always be tied to the Brooks ranch. It was a comforting thought, and one that Tasuki tucked away in the corner of his mind for safekeeping.  
  
"The ring, if you please . . ." The minister's voice snapped Tasuki back to attention. He pulled the ring from the pocket of his brocade vest and gave it to Cyril.  
  
Ellen gave her flowers to Missy and allowed Cyril to claim her hand. Work- roughened fingers held hers within a protective grasp. Tasuki thought of their old lives in New York—the champagne suppers, buggy rides through the park and trips to the athletic club. He glanced back at Cyril's parents, who were more like parents to him than his own family. They sat side by side in the nearest pew.Then he turned back around in time to see Cyril slip the ring on Ellen's finger.  
  
Tasuki grinned. Now that he had withstood the worst that Miss hell-bent- for-leather Brooks could dish out, there wasn't anything or anybody that would force him to return to New York—not ever again.  
  
  
  
~~~*~~~ 


	2. chapter two

~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~ Wild Angels  
  
By Amiboshi-chan  
  
Chapter two  
  
A side of prime beef sizzled on an iron spit over a glowing pile of coals several yards from the ranch house veranda. A coyote howled somewhere off in the twilight and a mournful answer echoed. The smell of burning wood filled the air. As Chichiri swabbed spicy chili sauce on the beef, some of the thick concoction dribbled onto the embers. Flames shot upward, as they would inside everyone's bellies after a taste of Chichiri's secret sauce.  
  
Missy's heart was beating hard with happiness and excitement. Clinging to the railing, she lingered on the veranda, content to observe the crowd. As the fiddlers broke out into soft song, Cyril and Ellen waltzed for the first time as man and wife.  
  
It was almost painful for Missy to witness so much happiness. The persistent lump she'd been choking on all day came again. Fighting back tears of joy, she laughed at Cyril's mock awkwardness when the fiddles abruptly quickened and he was forced to dance a Highland jig.  
  
Nobody could out-celebrate a cowboy, Missy thought fondly. Fast moving boot heels clicked on the wood in quick rhythm. She laughed out loud when Kaen joined in and lifted her skirt slightly to reveal slender ankles and layers of snowy white petticoats, as she executed a series of intricate steps. Missy watched in admiration as her older sister's dark eyes flashed as she picked up the pace, moving with grace while the fiddlers played faster and faster to match her lightening-quick feet.  
  
Then, without warning, the tempo changed. Strains of fiddle blended with the romantic strumming of a Spanish guitar; another waltz for the newlyweds.  
  
Cyril kissed Ellen and pulled her close, and they began to float around the dance floor in a way that made Missy's heart catch. A part of her hungered to be in the middle of the swirling, twirling couples, but her awkwardness kept her lurking in the shadows at the edge of the Veranda. Ellen had shown Missy how to wear the complicated frippery of a lady, but she still did not know how to be one. So, she merely clapped her hands to the brisk tempo while she watched other girls from nearby ranches being swept onto the dance floor by one handsome cowhand after another. Her only consolation was that she was in no danger of making a fool of herself, hidden alone in the shadows.  
  
"Grab a partner!" Nuriko called out. "Everybody dance! I don't want to see anybody sitting this one out!"  
  
"Boo." Tasuki's voice jarred Missy. "Penny for your thoughts, little lady."  
  
She whirled around to find him standing no more than six inches from her. His black string tie and long tailed coat had been discarded. The white shirt he wore was half unbuttoned, and an errant breeze ruffled the soft cloth against his chest.  
  
"And just when I was finally enjoying a private moment," Missy snapped, pulling her gaze from his torso.  
  
He eyed her with cool detachment and picked a bud from the roses that grew in abundance by the veranda. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were hiding up here away from the dance floor, Miss Brooks." A half- smile curved his lips and his eyes twinkled mischievously in the firelight as he sniffed the blossom.  
  
"I ain't doin' no such thing. What a fool notion." She turned back towards the dancers and started clapping again, but the toe-tapping music had changed. Now everyone was twirling in another slow, seductive waltz. She had been so caught up in her talk with Tasuki that she hadn't even noticed. Her cheeks burned and she brought her palms together awkwardly, not really sure what to do with her hands.  
  
"Care to try?" Tasuki asked, with a chuckle.  
  
"Try what?" Missy knew exactly what he was asking, but she'd sooner take a polecat for a walk then let Tasuki McCarty know she couldn't dance a lick. She looked back at the dance floor, staring determinedly at the laughing couples, trying to ignore the knot that had taken up permanent residence in her middle.  
  
He stepped closer and leaned near her ear. His warm breath carried the faint trace of whiskey—and danger. "Would you care to dance with me?"  
  
Missy whirled to face him once more. She summoned her voice, but her refusal died in the back of her throat when she encountered his charming smile.  
  
The night breeze lifted strands of is silky orange hair. Silver moonlight and the amber glow from the bonfire played on his face, turning his eyes a most unusual shade of green. Missy couldn't describe it, or what looking into his eyes was doing to her insides. It appeared, for one heart- lurching moment, that his eyes glowed with an inner fire.  
  
'Goll-dang, if he isn't the handsomest cuss I've ever seen.'  
  
She swallowed hard. Her heart beat against her ribcage like a gloved fist. "I—uh, that is . . ."  
  
"You can dance, can't you?" One winged brow rose in silent challenge. Then he raised his hand and deftly slipped the rose bloom behind her ear, tucking a thick lock of hair over it.  
  
The heat of a blush raced up her cheeks. Her first inclination was to turn tail and run. She couldn't dance, but she'd gotten to know Mr. Smart- jackass McCarty well enough to know he would require her to prove it. That was a humiliation she would just as soon spare herself, if you please.  
  
"I—I—"She stammered, while visions of public indignity raced through her mind.  
  
The corner of his mouth lifted. "I believe I'll take that as a yes, Miss Brooks." He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close before she had a chance to flee.  
  
Panic welled up in her, but it was soon overwhelmed by the stunning impact of how it felt to have his arm around her. A tiny voice in her head said 'dig in your heels and run while there's still time,' but she didn't listen. She just let him clamp her against his body and pull her off the veranda.  
  
"You know, Miss Brooks—" his grin widened "—Back home I was considered to be quite a good dancer."  
  
"Yeah, well, what do a bunch of Easterners know about anythin'?" She answered defensively, raising her chin a notch higher.  
  
Tasuki laughed, deep and low in his chest. He had to admit that he liked this easy, teasing banter, and that he liked Missy and the tug-of-war that went on between them. It was much more pleasant than getting all tangled up romantically. As he looked down at her sweetly flushed face, and lips that were soft and kissable, he realized this was what he wanted. He wanted to stay in the Territory where he was safe from having to make any permanent commitments and decisions. He was content to stay where he could tease Missy and know that she was always there, day in and day out. She had no suitors hanging around, so he had a clear field. It was the best possible situation for a man who had no desire to settle down.  
  
Missy blinked back her confusion. Tingling heat meandered into her limbs from the spot on her back where Tasuki's hand rested. She was afraid her knees would buckle, afraid she'd get all tangled up in her dress, fearful she would make a fool of herself and sure Tasuki would take an inordinate amount of pleasure in whatever indignity befell her. But to her surprise, he started talking to her in low soothing tones, as if she were a skittish filly he was determined to gentle.  
  
"Put yourself in my hands, little lady. I promise not to step on your toes." His deep voice vibrated through her as he held her tightly against his body. "At least not too often."   
  
His rumbling laughter drew Missy's eyes back to his face. "And what happens if I step on yours?" She managed to ask, as her foot touched the first pine board. "You won't think your little joke is so funny then, will you, Tasuki?"  
  
The mocking grin faded as he replied. "I hope I am tough enough and man enough to take whatever comes of this dance, Missy." He paused to stare at her, unblinking, while her heart hammered in her chest. "Now and in the future."  
  
His words hung before them like a spider's silken web. Then he smiled gently. "Now wipe that frown off your pretty little face and act like you're having fun! Ellen and Cyril will wonder what I'm doing to you if you keep scowling like that!"  
  
Missy swallowed hard. Telling her that she was pretty was just about the nicest thing Tasuki had ever said to her. He had been everywhere, seen everything. How in tarnation could a man like him think a girl who wore chaps and boots was pretty?  
  
For half a moment, Tasuki returned her serious gaze, then he tilted back his head and laughed. Rich, hearty tones of masculine mirth erupted from him. Her belly quivered in reaction to the sound of it.  
  
"Oh, you were teasing. You are always sayin' the dangedest things to me--" She would have said more, but suddenly her feet had wings.  
  
Tasuki twirled her out onto the dance floor. With a sobering chill she realized the flames dancing beneath the side of beef and all the torches surrounding the floor had driven back the night. She might as well have been dancing beneath the noonday sun. Now everyone would see if she stumbled or fell or made an ass of herself. She stared at her feet, trying desperately to avoid stepping on Tasuki's shiny black Justins.  
  
"You needn't look so terrified, Missy." He said softly. "I promise you that I'll never let any harm come to you-never." His words penetrated and lifted her out of her gloom. Her head slowly came up and she shifted her concentration from her feet to his face. Her breath lodged in the space beneath her heart.  
  
'I'll never let any harm come to you—never.'  
  
All her fears flitted away into the night. She forgot about the crowd of people, and the dance steps she didn't know. Her world compressed into the circle of space she occupied within Tasuki's arms. He turned her in a tight circle that brought her bosom up against the wide, muscular expanse of his chest. Each time he executed a new dance step and expertly pulled her along with him, her heart beat a little faster.  
  
Tasuki smiled at her, and she suddenly realized she was well and truly at risk, but not of breaking a leg of even her foolish neck. As she stared into his eyes and her heart thrummed inside her chest, she knew what she risked now, was her heart  
  
She could care an awful lot about Tasuki McCarty-if she let herself.  
  
A slow, lazy smile teased the corners of his mouth. "See, I was telling the truth when I said you were in good hands." As he bent a little nearer and drawled the words into her ear, his breath fanned out over her neck and left a trail of hot chills in its wake. "I spent a good many hours dancing before I left New York, Missy. I know what I'm doing."  
  
The spinning turns and his warm breath on her skin made her as dizzy as if she had been at the bottle of whiskey right along with the menfolk. A thousand new and unfamiliar feelings sizzled through her, and even though she longed for something sharp to say to diffuse the tension of the moment, nothing would come to mind. She was trapped like a rabbit in a snare set by Tasuki himself.  
  
"May I have the next dance with my sister?" Chichiri's smile was full of brotherly affection as he tapped on Tasuki's shoulder. An uncharacteristic blush crept up Missy's smooth cheeks. Putting on a dress had changed more than her outsides, it would seem. Wearing ruffles and petticoats gave her an aura of vulnerability, and attitude of shy unease.  
  
Tasuki released his hold on her waist with some reluctance as he stepped back and allowed Chichiri to sweep Missy into the crowd of dancers. They made a striking contrast—the weathered rancher with pale blue hair, graying slightly at the temples, and his radiant, fresh little sister, fiery at the Territorial sun.  
  
Tasuki shook his head. All this silly sentiment was only a combination of moonlight and whiskey. He was about half drunk and that was what was making him wax poetic, he assured himself. Tomorrow reason would return. In the light of day Missy would be herself; there would be no soft glow of fire, no waltzes, no strange tightening of his gut each time their eyes met unexpectedly. Tomorrow she would be back to normal, and once again he would be fending off her hostility and her barbed words.  
  
It was something to look forward to.  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~ 


	3. chapter three

I don't own any of Fushigi Yugi . . .if I did I wouldn't be sitting here writing fanfictions, now would I???  
  
Wild Angels  
  
By Amiboshi-chan  
  
Chapter Three Patricia might have been drinking muddy water, for all the enjoyment the chilled punch gave her. Tasuki was not coming home with them as she had hoped. He had revealed his intentions to remain in the Territory. She sighed heavily and tried to wipe away the sadness in her heart. Cyril was happily married, but the irrepressible Mr. McCarty was another matter altogether.  
  
As much of a mother figure as Patricia was to Tasuki, she felt it hadn't been her place to interfere when he'd decided to come west. Violet Ashland had wounded him deeply, she knew, and he needed the space to heal. Patricia had hoped that the time spent here had accomplished that, but now she was beginning to wonder. Was he really intent on burying himself here in this cultural wasteland, or was he still pining for Violet?  
  
"Patricia?" Donovan appeared at her elbow. His snowy white eyebrows were pinched with concern. "Are you feeling ill, my dear? All the color has drained from your face!"  
  
Patricia glanced at Tasuki, who was standing near the punch bowl. "No—no, I am perfectly fine. I'm just a bit concerned."  
  
Donovan frowned. "Surely you are not still concerned about Cyril? Ellen will make him a fine wife, and he is happy here."  
  
"No it isn't that. I am worried about Tasuki."  
  
"Tasuki?" Donovan said in surprise. "He is the very picture of health!"  
  
Patricia brought her gaze up to her husband's. "On the outside, perhaps. But I am worried about him all the same."  
  
"He is fine," Donovan rubbed the back of his knuckles over his wife's cheek. 'You worry too much. He is talking about buying some land to raise cattle here. That's all."  
  
"Do you think it is really what he wants to do or is he still trying to get over Violet?"  
  
At the mention of her name, Donovan's face became a mask of disapproval. "That is a subject best left alone, Patricia."  
  
"But, Donovan . . . it would be a great mistake for him to stay here! Surely you can see that?"  
  
"Patricia, what I see is a grown man. Whatever decision he makes and for whatever reasons, it is his business alone." Donovan turned her to face him and cupped her chin in his palm. "And I don't want you interfering."  
  
"Oh Donovan, surely I could just—"  
  
"No, darling." He placed both hands on her shoulders and gently drew her closer to him. "Promise me, Patricia." His voice was soft but stern. "Promise me this time you will leave things alone. You mustn't say a word to the boy about this. And I think it is best if you don't mention the fact that Violet had returned to New York."  
  
Patricia sighed and leaned into his hands. "Oh, all right. If you feel so strongly about it, I will promise not to meddle."  
  
He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "That's my girl. Now let's show these youngsters how to do a proper dance."  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
Yui was breathless from all the dancing as she approached the punch bowl where Nakago and Missy were chatting  
  
"You know, cousin, if Mother notices the glow in your cheeks she will have you staying in bed tomorrow," Nakago warned her. He nodded at Patricia and Donovan, who were now cutting a fine figure on the dance floor.  
  
"I suppose I should be more sensible," Yui agreed wistfully.  
  
A cowboy with a thatch of unruly blonde hair approached her for the next dance. Yui glanced at Nakago, her expression that of a child asking for just one more piece of candy. She frowned in disappointment at his imperceptible shake of the head, then turned to the eager cowboy. "Thank you, but I fear I must decline. I am a little out of breath." She smoothed the baby blue ruffles on her dress and sighed meaningfully.  
  
The cowboy tipped his hat and backed away. "Maybe next time, ma'am."  
  
"Yes, next time." Yui's eyes followed him as he disappeared into the crowd.  
  
"Very wise, cousin." Nakago smiled. "It's most likely that you have saved yourself a stern lecture and a full day in bed. May I pour you and Miss Brooks a cup of punch?"  
  
"Thank you." Missy took the cup he passed her.  
  
"You are quite welcome. I should be thanking you, Miss Brooks. I have enjoyed myself tonight." Nakago poured a second cup of punch and passed it to his cousin.  
  
"I'm glad you have had a good time, but I bet you have fancy parties like this all the time back in New York." Missy watched the couples swirling by in front of her and wished this night would never end.  
  
"They are rarely this much fun, though." Yui fanned herself with a delicate, lily-colored hand. She smiled at Missy, batting brown lashes over eyes the color of cornflowers. 'How I wish I could wear my hair loose and flowing and have sun-kissed cheeks like Miss Brooks,' she thought, with gentle envy. 'Just once I would like to be the picture of health.'  
  
"That is a fact," Nakago agreed. "New York Parties are—stuffy."  
  
"You're teasing me." Missy felt a blush working its way up her neck.  
  
"No, I am not teasing. I leave that to Tasuki." Nakago placed his hand over his heart to emphasize his sincerity.  
  
Yui eyed Missy with speculation, as a wild idea popped into her head. "Why don't you come and visit us in the city to see for yourself? It would give me a perfect excuse to have lots of dances like this one."  
  
"Tokaki might have something to say about that." Patricia told Yui, as she and Donovan joined the group by the punch bowl. With a gentle smile, she studied the two girls standing side by side—near in age but as different as light and darkness. Yui looked frail and too pale, even by current fashionable dictates. And Missy . . .well, Missy was a little too wild, a little too exuberant, but the glowing picture of a woman in the bloom of youth. Chichiri had explained about her growing up without a mother and father, how he and Nuriko had raised her and Suboshi since their deaths. It did account for much of her behavior.  
  
For a mad, impetuous moment Patricia wondered what it would be like to take the girl under her wing and help her become a proper lady. No, no... the idea was silly, and Donovan would have a proper fit.  
  
"I would still like for Missy to come and visit, whether Papa would allow me to have a party or not!" Yui said stubbornly. "It would be fun to have someone my own age around again." Tokaki had kept her secluded, and so her cousins had been her major source of companionship. With all the girls married and gone, the last couple of years had been extremely lonely. A visit from Missy would truly be a godsend. "And we could all go shopping together, Aunt Patricia. It would be fun- you know it would be fun!"  
  
The older woman cast a sidelong glance at her spouse. Yui was right- having Missy around would be fun. Patricia missed having a daughter to fuss over as much as Yui missed chatting with her cousins.  
  
"I do think it's a good idea, Yui." She blurted with enthusiasm. "We must do our best to persuade Miss Brooks to come out as soon as possible."  
  
"I agree, Mother," Nakago said heartily, in spite of Donovan's growing frown. "After all, Missy is family now."  
  
"It would be kinda nice to be somewhere that I could dress up like this more often," Missy said wistfully.  
  
"You are charming no matter what you are wearing," Patricia assured Missy. "Isn't she, Donovan?"  
  
"What? Oh yes... she's charming." Donovan replied absently. Patricia had purposely avoided his suggestion about interfering. She knew well Donovan was not as enthusiastic about the idea as his family was.  
  
"Oh, Missy do say you'll come! You would have a lovely time in the city." Yui's face brightened with every word. "We could have some new gowns made for you as well. It would be great fun and I would love the company."  
  
"Yes, my dear, we insist." Patricia smiled inwardly. The girl was always clomping around in men trousers and boots—she would be a challenge. But she did have good bones, and with a little work . . .  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
Curiosity nipped at Tasuki as he watched the O'Bannion family. He allowed himself one more gulp from the whiskey flask, before threading his way across the floor to the group. Sidestepping to avoid dancing boots and whirling skirts, he finally reached the other side of the room.  
  
"That's awful nice of you, ma'am, but . . ." Missy began.  
  
"What's going on?" Tasuki whispered to Nakago.  
  
"Yui has almost persuaded Miss Brooks to come to New York," Nakago replied. "I think it would be a marvelous idea for Yui to have some female company."  
  
"What? You can't be serious!"  
  
His loud exclamation brought Missy's head around with a snap. "Is something wrong, Tasuki?" She frowned as he swayed a little. It was obvious he'd been hitting the drink again.  
  
"Nothing, nothing at all." Tasuki shook his head.  
  
"Are you sure?" She asked pointedly. "I thought you might be upset about my invitation from the O'Bannions."  
  
Tasuki gave her a lopsided grin. "Nothing to be upset about- the whole idea is ridiculous. I know you are too sensible to even consider such a thing."  
  
"Why is the idea of me goin' to New York so ridiculous?" Missy pressed.  
  
"Why?" Tasuki shook his head, trying to clear the buzz the whiskey had brought to his head. "Well for one thing, little lady, wearing boots and Stetsons in New York drawing rooms is not the thing this year." Laughter bubbled in the back of his throat as he imagined Missy sitting down to tea in her form-fitting chaps.  
  
"So you think I ain't got sense enough to learn how to act like a lady, is that it?" Missy's dark eyes narrowed with anger.  
  
"Not exactly." Tasuki blinked a couple of times and tried to clear the cobwebs from his brain.  
  
"You learned how to be a cowboy . . . ."  
  
"That's different." He blinked and steadied himself.  
  
"What's so consarned different about it?" She shot back. "If you could learn to be a cowboy, why is it so hard to believe that I could learn to become a lady?"  
  
Even in his half-looped state, Tasuki was intelligent enough to recognize a loaded question when he heard one. "You just can't go, and that's all there's to it. Now let's stop all this silly talk."  
  
"I can't? Did I hear you right?" Missy shook her head in disbelief. "Did you just tell me that I can't go to New York?"  
  
Tasuki sucked in a deep breath, trying to catalog his thoughts into a proper order as he looked at Missy. Indignant fire burned in her green eyes- they were lovely when she was spitting mad. A part of him wanted to tell her that, but that kind of talk was the sort of thing that got men tangled up, so he bit back the compliment. He was determined not to do anything that would break his vow of no entanglements, no commitments. He just had to keep a cool head, then he could remain as free as the wind. "Now, Missy . . ."  
  
"Don't you 'now Missy' me! And just when, Mr. oh-so-mighty McCarty, did you think you could start tellin' me what I can or can't do?"  
  
To Tasuki's utter astonishment, he retreated a step as Missy advanced on him. He couldn't help noticing, as she raised herself up on her slippered toes, that even then the top of her head barely reached his chin. She was narrow eyed with fury, and he felt a undercurrent of excitement humming between them. This was what he wanted, what he liked—this hot channel of interest running between them like a river of fire.  
  
"I know you have an overblown notion of your importance, but I didn't think it went so far as to include the whole of New York City!"  
  
"That wasn't exactly what I meant," Tasuki began, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The whiskey was dulling his senses and slurring his words, but he was still acutely aware of her.  
  
He wanted to tell her that she would be bored in a brownstone instead of under a wide, azure sky, and that Patricia and Yui, and especially women like Violet, could never understand the restless energy of Missy. He wanted to tell her that her spirit would wither without the wind in her face and the sun at her back.  
  
'You would be unhappy.'  
  
"I should'a known you'd have something nasty to say." Missy sucked in a long breath. "I was goin' to say no, but since you seem so all-fired determined that I can't go, I've changed my mind." She lowered herself back onto the soles of her feet, still glaring at Tasuki, then turned once again to face the O'Bannions. "Thanks for invitin' me, Mr. and Mrs. O'Bannion. I'll be ready to leave with you at the end of the week."  
  
Tasuki scowled and tried to steady himself. Until this moment he had not realized how many toasts he had drunk to his best friend's marriage, but the shock of Missy's words had begun to sober him up—real fast. This whole thing had gotten out of control.  
  
"Now, Missy, calm down a minute." He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. "I meant to tell you—"  
  
"Don't touch me, you sidewinder!" She shrugged his fingers off, turned on her heel and stomped away in a flurry of peacock blue satin.  
  
Tasuki stared at the rigid set of her shoulders as she left, and decided not to attempt to go after her. The best thing he could do now was wait until she cooled off before he tried to talk to her. Surely, Missy would be her old self in the morning, and by noon they would be back to their usual thrust and parry. There was nothing for him to worry about.  
  
He had it all figured out. He had the perfect arrangement.  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
Safe within the walls of her bedroom, Missy tore at the tiny buttons running down the front of her dress. The touch of the beautiful fabric against her flesh was suddenly hateful to her, reminding her of the disdainful look in Tasuki's jade eyes.  
  
Tonight when he had held her close she had allowed herself to think there was a feeling of tenderness between them. Now she realized it had simply been the whiskey, the sound of fiddles and the allure of firelight.  
  
'Damn him.'  
  
The expression on his face when he'd heard she had been invited to New York had told her the truth of his feelings. He considered her an embarrassment. It was obvious he thought his friends were setting themselves up for humiliation by inviting a bumpkin into their home.  
  
Missy unlaced the hard boned corset and flung it into a corner. The springs creaked and groaned as she flopped down on her bed. Her pride had been badly bruised. She had tried to wear the clothes of a lady, and act like a lady, yet it had not been enough.  
  
'It had not been enough—for him.'  
  
"Why do I let him get to me?" She asked aloud. "He's nothing but a greenhorn, a dude. His opinion isn't worth a hoot in hell to me."  
  
The words helped her vent her frustration, but in her heart she knew she lied. Tasuki McCarty had become more than a greenhorn or a dude. Though out of his league, he had set out to prove he could ride shoulder-to-shoulder with any man on the Circle B.  
  
And that was the hell of it all, she realized with a ragged sigh. Against all odds, he had succeeded- and brilliantly.  
  
Could she do what he had done? Did she have enough courage, smarts, and determination to change? Could she learn to be a proper lady?  
  
Missy flopped over on her back and stared at the ceiling. Tonight when he'd taught her how to dance she had felt attractive and feminine. But when she looked at his face and saw his true feelings etched in every sun-browned line, she'd wanted to rip him to shreds like a riled cat.  
  
"Damn and double damn him!" She swore, as she tightened her fist into a tight ball and used it to pummel her pillow. "I'll show him! I'll show Mr. High-and-Mighty McCarty that I can learn to be a proper lady and still stand on my own two feet, and he'll have to admit he was wrong!"  
  
Giving the pillow one last thump, she buried her face in the down ticking and cried like a baby.  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
Heehee . . . I would pride myself on getting the main character drunk in the first three chapters but when it is Tasuki, that isn't all that unusual . . .^^; 


	4. chapter four

Before I forget, I want to thank my wonderful, lovely, talented (and neglected) editor KittyLynne. Wild Angels would not be what it is without her help, input and constant support!  
  
I'd also like to thank all my readers, reviewers, and everyone who has supported me throughout the writing of this story.  
  
*smooch*  
  
I don't own Fushigi Yugi and probably never will . . .oh woe is me.  
  
Wild Angels  
  
By Amiboshi-chan  
  
Chapter four The train car swayed and rocked like a half-broken mustang. Mr. And Mrs. O'Bannion lurched unsteadily up the aisle, doggedly making their way forward to the dining car, while Missy sat beside Yui and tried not to notice Tasuki sitting across the aisle from her.   
  
He wasn't easy to ignore.   
  
Missy once again focused on his worn Justins, hitched carelessly up on the back of the empty seat in front of him. He shifted, causing his arms to flex. Heavy muscle corded beneath the rolled-up sleeves of a sturdy tan colored work shirt. Soft worn denim and battered leather chaps hugged his long legs.   
  
Patricia O'Bannion had been tight-lipped with disapproval over Tasuki's decision to travel in his ranch clothes, but that did nothing to deter him; he certainly was quite a different image from the one she'd seen when he first arrived from New York. Missy sighed at the thought, and wished she could forget how much he had changed.  
  
Nakago, sitting in the window seat beside Tasuki, gave his friend a sidelong look of amused curiosity. For his efforts, he earned a flashy smile of cocky arrogance. Then Tasuki pulled his hat low over his forehead and hunkered down in the seat.  
  
Missy fumed silently. 'His nonsense is enough to make a preacher cuss.'   
  
Why oh why did he have to come along? Although, a part of her was thrilled that he had, for she wanted him there to see her triumph.  
  
'If I do triumph.'  
  
She shook the negative thought from her head. She would succeed, and she didn't give a hoot in hell what Tasuki McCarty thought, anyway.   
  
But...why did the man have to be so goll-dang contrary about everything? And why did she have to keep noticing? There was no excuse for him to be dressing like a cowhand on this trip...unless it was just one more attempt at making her feel foolish. Each time she glanced at him she was painfully reminded of where she came from and how she did not fit in with refined society.   
  
'He's doing it to shame me.'  
  
Anger and disappointment settled over her like a wet blanket as she turned to look out the window. The countryside sped by at an amazing pace. At this rate they would be in New York in no time.  
  
"Are you nervous?" Yui's soft voice drew Missy's attention from the brown and green ribbons of landscape shooting by the window.  
  
"Do I seem nervous?" Missy challenged.  
  
"Maybe a little." Yui gave her a sympathetic smile and nodded towards Missy's lap.  
  
Following the line of her gaze, Missy discovered her fingers were busy tying the strings of her reticule into tight little knots. Her hands immediately stilled, but there was no use denying how she felt- not with the truth of it tangled in her fingers.  
  
"Oh...I'm sorry! I hope I haven't ruined it." She murmured in distress. After all, her entire outfit had been borrowed, from the jaunty hat on her head, which was courtesy of her cousin Ellen, to the pale green skirt and traveling jacket that were from Yui.   
  
"Do not worry." Yui waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "I just hope you are not regretting your decision to take us up on this invitation since . . . well, since Tasuki decided to come along."  
  
Missy looked up and caught Tasuki eyeing her from under the brim of his hat. She drew herself up and stuck out her chin a little, determined not to let him see how much his scrutiny and his disapproval had unnerved her.   
  
"I ain't nervous! Not a bit!" She asserted, more loudly than necessary. "I'm lookin' forward to a great adventure. What do I care if he decided to go back home?"  
  
She saw Tasuki's lips twitch, and she heard his quiet chuckle. Then he pulled the brim of his hat back down over his eyes, and sank lower in the seat as if he was going to take a nap. Missy cursed under her breath.  
  
"Damn that man! He would like nothin' better than to see me tuckin' my tail between my legs and runnin' back home. He probably can't wait for me to get there and make a goll-darn fool of myself. That's why he changed his mind at the last minute about coming and hopped on the train at the last minute."   
  
Yui smiled. "Tasuki does seem to have . . .a rather strong affect on you."   
  
Missy snorted. "I guess you could say that. He makes me so consarned mad I could just spit!" She looked down as she started to unknot the strings on the reticule.  
  
A skeptical smile tickled the corners of Yui's mouth. "Is that all? He only makes you angry?"  
  
Missy glanced up quickly. "Of course that's all! He makes me madder than a hornet!" The boldfaced lie nearly choked her. Tasuki did a lot more than make her angry, and had ever since she'd made the mistake of letting him wrap his arms around her and pull her out onto the dance floor at the wedding. If only she had not been fool enough to think that it had meant something to him. "And I swear, if he gives me that superior look of his one more time, I'll . . .I'll... well, I'll think of somethin'!" She went back to working on the knots, still muttering under her breath. "How I wish . . ." Her voice trailed off.  
  
"What, Missy? What do you wish?" Yui studied her closely.  
  
"Promise you won't laugh?" Missy lowered her voice so there would be no chance of Tasuki or Nakago overhearing.  
  
"I promise."  
  
"I do wish I hadn't been stupid enough to accept this invitation...but now I'm in it up to my hocks." She sighed and scooted lower in the seat, as if she could somehow disappear altogether. Without conscious thought, her eyes skimmed over Tasuki. Something about the way he looked, so relaxed and unconcerned, with denim clad, muscular legs casually propped against the next seat, made her angry all over again.  
  
Abruptly, she turned back to Yui and the rest of the words came out in a rush. "Even more, I wish I could be a lady! I want to talk right, walk right, and act right, so I can show..." her unwilling gaze slid back across the aisle to the manly form that so unnerved her, "...him."  
  
Yui smiled as if she understood, but Missy knew that she didn't. How could anyone understand how deeply Tasuki had wounded her?  
  
Tasuki had endured her teasing and taunting for over a year while he went about proving himself, giving back as good as he got. Then the sidewinder had to go and made her think he had feelings for her when he'd held her in his arms, taught her to dance.  
  
Why in tarnation had he done it, and why had it thrown her so? How could she expect Yui to understand these things when she didn't understand them herself?  
  
"I'll teach you." Yui's eyebrows rose toward her hairline.  
  
"Beg pardon?" Missy tore her thoughts from Tasuki.  
  
"I'll teach you how to be a lady," Yui whispered. "We could make a bargain."  
  
Missy's heart beat a little faster within the confines of her chest. "Now you're teasing me, just like he does."  
  
Yui tugged unconsciously at a strand of wispy blonde hair beside her cheek. ""No, I'm not- I wouldn't ever tease about something as important as this." She looked up. "Trust me, Missy."  
  
"I think you're funnin' me. I put that dress on at Ellen and Cyril's wedding, and I tried, I really did, but I saw the look on Tasuki's face." Missy swallowed hard. "He was shamed and embarrassed for me."  
  
"He did look distressed, but I am not sure you were the reason...or, at least, not in the way you think." Yui regarded Tasuki across the narrow aisle. "He is a changed man," she added, nodding in his direction. "If a fine Eastern gentleman can learn to be a rough riding cowboy, then there's no reason that you can't learn to be a proper lady."  
  
Missy had said the same thing to herself not all that long ago. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head thoughtfully, considering the idea. "If I agreed, I'd sure like to repay you for your kindness...but what do I have that someone like you would want?"  
  
"There is something." Yui lowered her voice to a whisper, and glanced around as if she expected someone to be listening in on their conversation.  
  
Missy leaned closer, inspired to whisper by Yui's behavior. "Name it."  
  
"I want you to teach me how to ride."  
  
Missy's stomach dropped as the little glimmer of hope that had welled within her died a quick death. Obviously, Yui was having some fun at her expense. "Be serious." She said curtly.  
  
However, not a trace of humor could be found in the blonde's wide-eyed _expression. "I am serious. I was a sickly child, and my father still insists in treating me as if I am still frail. It took weeks of begging him, just to be allowed to take this trip." A sheen of moisture sparkled in the cornflower blue eyes. "You cannot imagine what it's like to be treated like a fragile china doll locked away behind a glass door. I'd like to prove to him that I can be strong and capable—like you."   
  
Missy released the pent-up breath she had been holding. "But you—you're a real lady." Undisguised admiration rang in her voice.  
  
"You can be one too, Missy...though for the life of me I can't understand why it's so important to you." Yui's cheeks flushed and she ducked her head. "If you will teach me what you know, then I'll do the same."  
  
"I don't think it's gonna be very easy to turn me into a lady of refinement," Missy smiled, "but if you're game to try, then you've got yourself a deal."  
  
"One more thing, Missy." Yui's blue eyes suddenly turned icy. "This has to be our secret. If my father finds out, he will put a stop to our plan. He is a stubborn man, and he's afraid of losing me."  
  
"It'll be our secret," Missy swore solemnly, as her defiant gaze raked over Tasuki's form once more.  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
Tasuki flopped over in his berth. He was unable to sleep, even though the mattress was well padded and the train car was unusually quiet. As mile after mile slid by, he finally came to accept that stubborn little Missy was going to see this thing through to the end.  
  
So why on earth was he going home, the last place he wanted to be? He hadn't even had time to pack his clothes. But at least Mrs. O'Bannion was pleased by his impulsive decision.  
  
  
  
'If only I were as well.'  
  
He was simply going along as a courtesy to the Brooks family, to Cyril —and to keep Missy from wreaking havoc on the whole of New York City.  
  
'It has to be that. What other reason could there be?'  
  
He had tried to speak to Missy before the train left, to let her know that she was making a mistake by leaving the Territory, but she always seemed to have her head bent in some secretive conversation with Yui.  
  
"How on earth can they have so much to talk about?" He asked the night sky.  
  
Once on the train, he'd hoped to trap her somewhere and tease her into speaking to him. But so far he had not been able to steal a single moment alone with her. It was frustrating. And what was even more puzzling was his unrelenting desire to speak to her.  
  
Why did he care if she went to New York and made herself miserable? So what if she made a fool of herself by trying to be something she was not? Missy had ridden rough and hard over him for a full year. He should be tickled to think of her going to New York, where she would be as out of place as a house tabby in a cougar's den.  
  
He should've been...but he wasn't, and he knew why. There were men in New York—lots of young, very eligible men—who would find the unpolished Missy O'Bannion a novelty far too tempting to pass up. For all her tough ways, she was as an innocent as a lamb, and would have no idea how to deal with the jaded cads who would flock to her.  
  
"Why should I give a damn?" he muttered to himself. "She can go make a fool of herself, get her feelings hurt—hell, she can even get her heart broken! I don't care one damn bit!"   
  
But he did care.  
  
"Ah hell, it's only because she's Ellen's cousin. I owe it to Chichiri to keep an eye out for her." Tasuki mollified himself with that thought until sleep overtook him.  
  
But he did not rest. Instead he dreamed of chasing Missy across the moonlit prairie. She was a fleet-footed sprite with flowing auburn hair, who remained forever just beyond his reach.  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
"Missy, you are still dropping your 'g'," Yui whispered in the darkness. The pair were curled up in their flannel gowns inside the snug sleeping berth as the train rocked and clicked rhythmically through the night. The only illumination was a weak shaft of moonlight peeking through the partially opened curtain, turning Yui's pale hair to liquid silver.  
  
Missy turned and peered out the window. A late frost covered the early grass with a mantle of diamonds that sparkled at the train sped by. "I never knew speakin'—I mean speaking—could be so goll-darned hard." Missy sighed.  
  
"That's the other thing, Missy. You must try not to use phrases like 'goll- darned' and 'consarned'. And you'll have to quit damning Tasuki in every other breath."  
  
Missy giggled, fell back on her pillows and laced her fingers behind her head. "I may quit sayin' . . .saying it, but I won't promise to quit thinking it." She emphasized her g with precision.  
  
"Just as long as you don't say it aloud." Yui giggled in turn and pulled the carved bone brush through her hair. "In your mind you may curse dear Tasuki to whatever degree of perdition suits you, but a lady never lets such thoughts cross her lips."  
  
"He is going to be in for quite a shock. I can hardly wait until he gets a gander at me." Missy closed her eyes and imagined it in her mind.  
  
"A look at you," Yui corrected softly. "Not a gander."  
  
"A look at me," Missy repeated, dutifully.  
  
Yui smiled at the enthusiasm of her pupil. "We must spend some time working on your hair. It is so silky and thick, I am sure we can find a very flattering style for you. Perhaps an upsweep of some sort . . . you have lovely features. We need to accentuate them."  
  
"Lovely features?" Missy opened her eyes and sat up. She wasn't quite sure how to take the compliment. Nobody, not even Ellen, had ever talked to her the way Yui did. The bright blond girl was her exact opposite in every way, and yet they were already as close as sisters. With a poignant tug on her heart, she realized Yui had become her first female friend. Having grown up talking to male farmhands and her brothers, there was something sweet and satisfying about having a female friend in which to confide.   
  
"At the next stop I want to send a wire home," Yui continued. "We must ask Aunt Patricia if you may come to my house straightaway. My dressmaker, Miss Baldwin, is an absolute treasure! She can get some dresses made for you and nobody will know what we are up to . . . at least, not until we are ready for them to find out." Yui put the brush aside and clapped her smooth white hands together. "It will be deliciously fun! We'll have a party to introduce you properly to society!"  
  
"Do you really believe it will work?" Missy's nose crinkled with doubt.  
  
"Of course it will," Yui said confidently. "I can't wait to see the looks on everyone's faces when they see the transformation!" Yui cast a sly look at Missy as she added, "And when you teach me to ride, my papa will be forced to realize that I am not the frail child he thinks me to be!"  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
Sweet little Yui has a mischievous streak in her, it seems . . 


	5. chapter five

Once again, I'd like thank my wonderful editor KittyLynne for all of her help on this chapter, and everything else. ^__^  
  
Wild Angels  
  
By Amiboshi-chan  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Tasuki tried as best he could to keep up with Missy and Yui, but the crowd at Grand Central Station closed around him like a living wall. Unexpectedly, a sharp blow to his ribs sent the air rushing from his lungs in a painful hiss. He spun around on his boot heel, ready to do battle with his attacker, only to find a prune-faced woman over seventy wielding an umbrella like a cavalry saber.  
  
"Pardon me, ma'am." Tasuki reeled back half a step and touched his finger to his hat in apology.  
  
Unmoved by his show of good manners, she harrumphed loudly and seared his flesh with a dour look before moving on. By the time he turned back around, the feather on top of Missy's borrowed hat was disappearing into a hansom cab. Before he could yell a word of protest, the carriage departed, its yellow wheels winking in the bright sunlight as it rolled out of the station.  
  
"Damnation!" He dragged off his Stetson and slapped it against his thigh in exasperation. For three days he had been struggling to find an opportunity to talk privately to her, and now she had escaped him one more time.  
  
"Are you talking to me or to yourself?" Nakago stood beside Tasuki, attempting to balance an array of boxes, bags and parcels. "If you are through accosting elderly matrons for the moment, I could use a hand." He added with a hint of irritation.   
  
Tasuki stuck his hat back on his head, then took hold of an octagon-shaped hatbox that had been awkwardly perched beneath Nakago's chin. "Why did Missy and Yui run off like a pair of scalded cats?"   
  
"Scalded cats?" Nakago repeated incredulously. "If a cat is scalded, does it run? Where on earth did you learn such a ridiculous expression?" He peered at Tasuki over the bulk of a string-tied bundle, only one of the purchases his mother had made at various stops on the way home.  
  
Tasuki rolled his eyes heavenward. "All right, I'll rephrase my question. Why do you suppose dear Yui and Miss Brooks fled the station as if it were on fire?" He tilted his head to see if the amended query met with the other man's approval, but Nakago only shrugged and hailed a passing cab, obviously unimpressed by the question and its delivery.  
  
"No reason for them to wait for us." The hansom cab rolled by without stopping and Nakago swore softly under his breath.  
  
"They could have shared their cab. That's a reason." Tasuki snapped. "Why on earth hire two cabs?"  
  
"I understand they are headed in the opposite direction. It would be silly to go to Yui's house and then double back to the brownstone."  
  
"Yui's house?" The hair on the back of Tasuki neck prickled. "What do you mean, they are going to Yui's house? I thought the whole idea of this little visit was so Missy could spend some time with your mother."  
  
Nakago stretched to peer over the crowd. "I heard Yui telling Mother that Missy is going to spend tome time with her first." He smiled victoriously when a cab responded to his hail. "Now, Tasuki, don't stand there with your mouth gaping open like a landed carp-I need help with this baggage!"  
  
Tasuki stifled the sharp retort that bubbled up in his throat, then hurried over and started handing bags to the driver. How could he be so thick as to allow Missy to come to New York? And on the heels of that thought, another more sobering notion flitted through his brain. There wasn't a damn thing he could have done to stop her.  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
Missy tried not to gawk, but failed miserably since she had never seen so many people in one place, at one time in her entire life. The sounds they made engulfed her, almost like a thousand spring peepers and katydids droning their tuneless songs. Leaning back against the padded leather seat, she closed her eyes.  
  
"Missy, are you ill?"  
  
Yui's voice broke through the fog in Missy's mind. She opened her eyes to see Yui peering at her with concern etched in her pale face. "I—I don't know what I expected, but it's awful big."   
  
Relief flooded the blonde's face. "Oh, is that all? You had me worried, I thought you might be coming down with something. You'll get used to the city quickly, I promise."   
  
Yui smoothed her skirt and turned to stare idly out the window, the very picture of serenity and confidence. Missy couldn't help but wonder if she would ever possess that kind of poise of if she was chasing rainbows by even trying. But she had accepted the challenge, and now, for good or ill, she was set on her course . . . there would be no turning back, not when Tasuki was waiting for her to fail, like a hungry hawk waiting for a rabbit to emerge from its hutch.  
  
She would not fail. Her pride would not allow it.  
  
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~  
  
Missy and Yui were lingering over a cup of tea when the downstairs maid appeared at the parlor door, carrying a silver tray in her hand. A solitary piece of paper rested in the center. "Pardon, miss." The maid bobbed a little curtsy.  
  
Yui leaned over and glanced at the envelope. "It is from Aunt Patricia."  
  
"How can you tell?" Missy frowned. The outside of the envelope was as blank as the _expression on the maid's face.  
  
"It's her stationary." Yui scooped up the paper and nodded as the maid curtsied and left the room. "See the water mark?" Yui held it up towards the light streaming in from the French windows. The outline of a fancy crest within the fibers of the paper became evident.  
  
"Oh." Missy ducked her head in embarrassment. Another thing she did not know, but if Yui thought anything of her ignorance, she did not show it as she busied herself opening the envelope.  
  
"Well, this is unexpected." Yui passed the paper to Missy, who read the neatly printed words and felt her stomach lurch.  
  
"A party?" She gasped. "Mrs. O'Bannion is throwing a party—for me?" Desperation rang in every word. "But I'm not ready." She stood up and started to pace. "I'll never be ready."  
  
Yui studied her face for half a minute, then she brightened. "Nonsense. It will be fine. Aunt Patricia will only invite family and close friends. Actually, this will be good for you. We will be able to ease you into New York society by degrees."  
  
"Do you really think so?" Missy stopped pacing to give Yui a hopeful look.  
  
"Absolutely." Yui picked up a delicate china cup painted with pale yellow primroses and leaned back in the wicker chair. "Now that I think about it, it's a wonderful idea."  
  
Yui seemed completely confident, and, if she wasn't worried, them Missy decided she wouldn't be either.  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
The night of the party was hot and sultry from two days of uninterrupted rain. Then, as if the heavens knew that Patricia O'Bannion would be displeased if her guests were inconvenienced, the sky cleared. A handful of bright stars twinkled over head as Tasuki stepped out the French doors with a glass of cognac in his hand.  
  
"Well, well, well. Did you decide to grace us with your company tonight, or are you here for some other reason?" Nakago's deep, teasing voice brought Tasuki around abruptly. Every candelabrum in the house was blazing, in addition to the gaslights in the ballroom.  
  
Nakago was silhouetted against the gold and crystal glitter of his mother's dining room, his snowy white shirt, black coat and tie, making him look the epitome of a New York gentleman.   
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Tasuki sipped his drink and acted as if he were unaware of the pending festivities.  
  
"You know perfectly well what I am talking about! You have nor been here twice since we returned." Nakago stepped outside, grinning. "It is an interesting coincidence that you decided to stop by on the first night Miss Brooks is going to be here."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Tasuki snapped. "I just happened to stop by, that's all." He had made the same observation to himself earlier, but Nakago was wrong, and so was he. He had simply tired of the giggling women who had begun to present themselves upon his return. He had grown bored listening to stories of how that all had been pining away in his absence. He had tired of telling the same stories of his life in the West—and the novelty of his unconventional mode of attire had worn so thin he was actually thinking of going upstairs to change.  
  
"Perhaps you are telling the truth, since you are still dressed like you rode in from the range." Nakago said, with a glanced at Tasuki's boots.  
  
"I am thinking of changing—but only to please Patricia." Tasuki took another sip from his glass.   
  
Nakago chuckled. "I'm sure she will be pleased. There is some of Cyril's remaining clothes up in his room, but wear whatever you wish. As a matter of fact, I must say that those pants of Levi's suit you." He studied Tasuki closely. "I think I have almost grown used to the new you, but tell me the truth- is the prickly attitude also part of the new you?"  
  
Tasuki frowned, but was spared having to answer as the front doorbell chimed. The pair watched the butler's back as he opened the door. Tasuki rose up on the toes of his boots to see who it was. "Anxious?" Nakago asked, a grin curving his lips.  
  
"Not at all." Tasuki shook his head and moved closer to the open doors. The doorbell rang again.  
  
Tasuki drained his glass. "I think I'll go up and change."  
  
"Better hurry, she will be here soon."  
  
"Who?" Tasuki asked innocently, but Nakago only laughed and stepped inside.  
  
By ten o' clock, the O'Bannion's brownstone was a hive of social activity. Maids and butlers scurried about, making sure every glass was full, and every plate taken away the moment the last morsel was consumed. Tasuki had lingered in the spare room after he had changed. Now he stood with one foot hitched upon the top stair as he watched the activity below. He hated to admit it, but he felt out of place in his old environment.  
  
The sound of laughter drew his gaze. There, surrounded by men was a familiar head of lustrous russet hair. A strange tight coil of heat formed in his chest. While he watched, his grip on the banister tightened; it was Missy Brooks, and half the unattached men in New York were paying her court.  
  
He was halfway down the stairs, focusing only on Missy, when he felt a hand on his arm. Tasuki shrugged, intending to remove the unwanted restraint.  
  
"It has been a long time, darling."  
  
The words brought him to a halt and he turned, already knowing who he would see.  
  
Violet Ashland lifted one eyebrow and gave him her coolest smile. "I was coming to find you." Her hand moved over the cloth of his coat in an intimate fashion. A hundred memories of stolen passion ripped through him.  
  
It was at that very moment he looked down at Missy and she looked up. Their gazes caught and held, not going unnoticed by the men surrounding her or the woman still possessively fingering his arm.  
  
Violet's smile became cooler than ice. "Is this the little country mouse I have heard so much about?"  
  
Tasuki frowned and looked at her. "What?"  
  
"I mean, the sweet child the O'Bannions brought back from the west, darling! How the poor dear must have suffered in that harsh environment." Violet looped her arm through Tasuki's. "You must introduce us-I've been dying to meet her."  
  
Ghostly fingers traced a line down Missy's spine, as Tasuki descended the stairs and made his way in her direction. She felt trapped by his amber gaze, and suddenly the velvet gown she was wearing felt about at attractive as a gunnysack. She tried to swallow the champagne one of the men brought her, but it stuck in her throat and she choked.  
  
"Miss Brooks, are you all right?" A solicitous voice asked.  
  
"What. . .? Oh yes. Yes, I am fine." She lied. Mercifully, a disembodied voice asked if she would like a glass of water. Within seconds, her champagne glass was gone, replaced by a crystal goblet of water. She brought it to her lips, but the dryness remained.  
  
"Oh, she is just precious. Tasuki, what a darling child." The blond woman clinging to Tasuki was surveying Missy from head to foot, and without passing a word between them, Missy knew all she had to know.  
  
This woman was her adversary.  
  
"Tasuki, please introduce me." Violet kept a smile pasted on her face. She had heard all the gossip about the lovely young woman who had returned with Tasuki. She had not believed it, but now that she was face to face with the little chit, she had no choice but to observe the social niceties. Even so, one thing was certain.  
  
This woman was her adversary.  
  
Missy felt her stomach knotting up. In spite of the notion that this woman was everything she despised, there was a tiny part of her that was envious. Violet Ashland appeared to be every inch a lady, and she was holding Tasuki's arm as if he belonged to her.  
  
Tasuki cleared his throat. Violet was clinging to him like a burr in a mustang's tail, and was just as tenacious and thorny. He wanted to peel her fingers from his arm and walk away, but he could not do what he wanted here. How he wished he was back west, where a man could be honest about his feelings.  
  
"Violet Ashland, Missy Brooks." He would not lie and say he was pleased to introduce them.  
  
"I am so glad that I finally get to see you, Miss Brooks. I have been hearing much about you." Violet turned slightly sideways and looked at Tasuki. "Darling, she is a treasure. Such a charming child."  
  
Missy stiffened as a sudden urge to silence Violet Ashland overcame her. "It is very nice to meet you, but I assure you that I am far from being a child. It probably just seems that I am young, compared to you."  
  
A silence so heavy it could be felt settled over the small crowd gathered around the two women. Tasuki winked at Missy, even as his heart hammered in his chest.  
  
'Damn if she isn't magnificent.'  
  
Tasuki felt Violet's fingers dig into his arm, but to give her credit, her smile never slipped. "What I meant to say was that you are charming. . .in an untouched fashion." Violet inclined her head, and the gaslight turn the strands of her hair into ribbons of gold. The crowd around them began to drift away. Evidently they had grown bored with the inane conversation. Now Tasuki could drop his façade.  
  
"When did you return, Violet?" He asked without warmth.  
  
"Me? Oh, I've been back for ages now. I have been sitting at home pining away for you." She leaned close enough that he could smell her expensive French perfume. "You never even wrote to me."  
  
"I saw no reason to write." Tasuki said coolly, as he turned to face Violet. "When I left, you were busy chasing a title."  
  
She pouted prettily. "It was all a great misunderstanding, darling."  
  
"A misunderstanding?" The tone of Tasuki's voice was now deadly. "It was a hell of a lot more than that!"  
  
"Nonsense!" Violet took her hand from his arm and pulled off her elegant, elbow length glove. "It was nothing to me, and I can prove it." She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. Candlelight and gaslight glinted off a huge stone. "I am still wearing your engagement ring. I think that says it all."  
  
Missy blinked back her surprise as she stared at the diamond. Then she swung her stunned gaze to Tasuki. He fought the urge to wince as Missy's eyes met his, knowing the storm that was to come. For sure, there was anger in her dark eyes, but it mingled with something else . . .something unidentifiable.  
  
"You...you never mentioned you were engaged before." Missy struggled to keep her tone conversational. She couldn't let either of them know that she felt strangely. . . hurt to see the woman with him. Finally she could no longer meet Tasuki's stare, and her eyes drifted away.  
  
"Missy-" Tasuki broke off, realizing he couldn't say a damn thing to the contrary, not here in public, and not with Violet waving that consarned ring in his face. He shut his mouth again.  
  
"If you'll excuse me," Missy spoke hurriedly as she backed away. Then she turned and hurried away from the couple, Violet's victorious smile haunting her every step.  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
For the next few days Missy moped around Yui's house, reading the latest magazines and practicing solitaire, a card game which Yui had taught her, as she tried to forget about the scene at the brownstone.  
  
One day during breakfast, Yui surprised her with a declaration.  
  
"I think it's time we answer a few of these invitations."  
  
Missy looked up and blinked. She was still numb all over except for the unaccountable pain in her heart.  
  
'Why should I care if Tasuki is engaged?'  
  
She had asked herself the question a hundred times and more, but she never found an answer that suited. It could be that she harbored some silly girlish fantasy about him...or it could be that it was just such a shock. After all, he had never once mentioned the golden beauty who wore his ring. It might be all of those reasons. . .or none of them.  
  
"Did you hear me, Missy?" Yui frowned and pointed to a pile of calling cards and small white envelopes. "Gregory Whitemarten was here again this morning, as well as Chiriko Rutheford."  
  
"I don't want to see anyone." Missy said glumly.  
  
Yui's lips compressed with displeasure. "No, I do believe you'd rather sit at home and let him win."  
  
Missy's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Tasuki is having his cake and eating it too, if you ask me." Yui dropped two cubes of sugar into her cup of tea and stirred it savagely. "He's got Violet Ashland hanging all over him, telling anybody who will listen that they are going to be married, and you're sitting at home pining away."  
  
"I am not pining." Missy blinked at the harsh words. "What a silly notion."  
  
"Prove it." Yui challenged with a flick of her sandy bangs. "If you aren't smitten with Tasuki, and you aren't pining for him, then pick one of these invitations to accept!"  
  
"I-"  
  
"Right now, Miss Brooks! I won't believe another word you say unless you prove it!"  
  
Missy narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, shoving the stack of cards and envelopes around on the table while she glared at Yui. "I can't believe you would get such a dunderhead idea, Yui." When she could delay no longer, she closed her eyes and picked up a white envelope.  
  
"Let me read it." Yui said as Missy stared at it blankly. After glancing at the card inside, Yui turned to Missy. "It's from Hotohori Dover."  
  
"Which one is he?" Missy's irritation had momentarily banished her misery over Tasuki.  
  
"He is the tall, slim man with the golden eyes and long hair- the one who brought the bouquet of roses the morning after Aunt Patricia's party."  
  
"Oh, him." Missy sighed. "I guess he's as good as any to prove to you that I'm not moping around because of Tasuki. I don't care in the least that he's engaged."  
  
Yui's brows rose high over doubtful blue eyes.  
  
"Well, I don't!" Missy stoutly reaffirmed.  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~ 


	6. chapter six

Wild Angels  
  
By Amiboshi-chan  
  
Chapter six  
  
For the next few days Tasuki frequented all his old, familiar haunts- including the theater and his favorite café- but soon found that no matter where he went, he was plagued by the memory of Missy's dark green eyes.  
  
And then there was Violet Ashland, who kept turning up and clinging to his arm. It didn't take long to realize that he was a changed man . . . one who found the simpering blond beauty of Violet more annoying than intoxicating. Whenever she appeared, it was all he could do to bite his tongue and remind himself that he had been given a gentleman's upbringing. It also reminded him that trying to deal with females was enough to make a man want to become a hermit.  
  
On one particularly gloomy morning, Tasuki found himself staring into the dark brew at the bottom of his china coffee cup, and largely ignoring the conversation of Nakago and his mother, who were enjoying a hearty breakfast.  
  
The doorbell rang, and the downstairs maid went to answer it. When she returned, she was carrying a small white envelope. Nakago quickly drained his coffee cup, intending to make a hasty exit before the maid reached them. He had been expecting a long overdue summons from his elder sister Clair-an invitation to a tiresome family function that would be impossible for him to decline. However, as Patricia opened the envelope, the odd look on her face stopped him in his tracks. "What is it, Mother?" He asked, curiosity getting the best of him. "Not bad news, I hope?"  
  
"No, not at all. It is merely an invitation to a garden party." Her voice was soft and slightly bemused.  
  
"Just as I thought." Nakago grumbled. He took the invitation as his mother handed it to him, and read it, a broad smile creasing his cheeks as he did so.  
  
Tasuki leaned back in his chair, and eyed the older man with a speculative _expression. "Rod, I haven't seen you grin like that since the last stock report. What has you so happy?"  
  
Nakago held out the card . "Read it for yourself." He said slyly. "It would be nice to see a smile on your face as well. You've had a permanent scowl etched on it since the night of Miss Brooks's debut party."  
  
"Your imagination is getting the best of you!" Tasuki retorted, snatching the card. Recognizing Yui's flowing script, he felt his heart start to race. "A garden party. . . at Tokaki O'Bannion's house. " He read, with poorly feigned nonchalance. "I suppose it would be nice to attend." "Nice? Is that the best you can do?" Tasuki looked up to find Nakago studying him with undisguised amusement. "What do you mean?" Nakago grinned at him as he rose from the chair and pulled on his coat. "How about...nice, as well as an extremely happy coincidence that you'll finally get to see Miss Brooks again?"  
  
Tasuki cleared his throat uncomfortably, feeling his pulse still racing like a runaway mustang. It was true that the image of Missy's dark eyes as she had turned and left him standing with Violet had kept him awake more than one night, but that meant nothing. He did not intend to settle down with anyone. He just felt bad for Missy. That was all. Wasn't it?  
  
"Now why in blue blazes would I be happy to see Missy?" He responded, in a deliberate drawl. "I've rather enjoyed not having my hide flayed by her sharp tongue!"  
  
Nakago shrugged. "It was only a joke, Tasuki. There's no need to defend yourself." Walking over to his mother's chair, he placed a kiss on top of her silvery blond curls. "See you later."  
  
"Where are you going?" Patricia looked up at him with a bright smile, brought on by the excitement of attending another party.  
  
"It's my morning at the gentleman's club."  
  
"Oh, yes." Patricia's smile vanished as she looked at Tasuki. "Why don't you go with him, Tasuki? You have been acting out of sorts lately."  
  
"Have I?" Tasuki echoed, trying his best to look cheerful. "I assure you that it wasn't intentional."  
  
"Nevertheless, you have been grumpy, dear- and I can't for the life of me figure out why, especially when things seem to be working out so well for you and Violet Ashland."  
  
Tasuki heaved a sigh of exasperation. "Patricia, there is nothing between me and Violet Ashland. I've told you this before."  
  
Patricia her hands up in a placating gesture. "All right, dear. If you want everything to be a surprise, I'll act like I haven't heard a word." She winked. "Just as you say- there is nothing between you and Violet."  
  
"But-" Tasuki started to protest, but Nakago snagged his arm. "Come on, you. It will do you good to work up a sweat rather than just getting hot under the collar." He laughed, unfazed by the dark glare Tasuki flashed him as he tugged the younger man towards the door and outside to the transport that awaited them. Minutes later, their carriage lurched through a light drizzle of rain. Tasuki had been silent during of the ride to the club, as he tried to figure out why on earth Patricia O'Bannion was so convinced that he and Violet were still romantically involved. Before he could think of an explanation that fit, Nakago was opening the carriage door.  
  
As he alighted from the vehicle, Tasuki's eyes traveled up the craggy facade of the club. Vermont granite soared upward for seven stories. "It never changes, does it?"  
  
Nakago turned to look at him. "You've been here before?" Tasuki nodded. "Well then, you should know that there has been a few minor changes inside the walls."  
  
"Oh really? Have they installed new leather sofas?" Nakago smiled. "Not exactly."  
  
"I know- they brought in new humidors to hold more of those foul smelling cigars." Tasuki joked, suddenly glad that Nakago had insisted he come along.  
  
Nakago's smile broadened at his friend's attempt at humor. "No, it's that we allowed a group of forward- thinking young women to attend one of the weekly sparring matches." He explained, smiling at Tasuki's astonishment.  
  
"If that's true, the older members will need three fingers of brandy and a short rest afterwards."  
  
Nakago laughed. "You would think- but it didn't turn out that way. It seems that after all the hoopla settled down, everyone noticed that the pugilists actually seemed to be putting forth a little more effort." He said. "Because of the record amount of wagers won and lost that day, a new tradition was started. Now, once a week, ladies are invited to observe the exercises. It has caused some raising of eyebrows from the other gentleman's associations, but we are standing firm."  
  
"Remarkable." Tasuki found himself chuckling along with Nakago.  
  
"You should understand, a man will endure all kinds of pain to impress a woman." Nakago now kept a straight face, but his eyes were twinkling.  
  
Once again, an image of Miaka Brooks rose in Tasuki's mind. "Perhaps, if it is the right woman." The two men entered the building. Tasuki's thoughts were focused on Missy, and he barely heard Nakago excuse himself to go to the changing rooms. So intent was he on his contemplations, it seemed like only seconds had passed before his companion returned.  
  
"Last chance to come take a shot at your ole buddy." Nakago said tauntingly, as he feigned punches and rotated broad shoulders.  
  
"No need to break a sweat to see who the winner is. I concede defeat from right here." Tasuki sat down, and then leaned back in the overly padded leather sofa provided for spectators. " I have no desire to have my face pummeled to hash."  
  
"Suit yourself." Nakago turned to a young man climbing into the ring. They met in the center, shook hands, and proceeded to exchange a flurry of punches. Tasuki unconsciously grimaced every time Nakago took a hit. He had eaten enough dirt and tasted his own blood enough out west that the sport of bare-knuckle pugilism no longer interested him.  
  
Sweat covered Nakago's exposed upper body, but he danced on his toes, obviously still ready to go. Outside the ring, a young man rang a small bell and the match ended. Both men stepped away, going to opposite corners.  
  
"The man's got a nice right cross." Tasuki observed, handing his friend a glass of water as Nakago joined him. The older man took a long swallow before answering. "'The man' is Hotohori Dover. Do you remember him?"  
  
Amber eyes widened. "Yeah, I do. What of it?"  
  
Nakago gave a half smile. "Well, rumor has it that he has been squiring Missy Brooks around town." Tasuki tensed as something hot and liquid shot through his veins. Was it jealousy? No, it couldn't be. All the same, he found himself standing and starting to unbutton his shirt. "I think I'd like to have a go at him."  
  
Surprisingly, Nakago's smile faded. He studied the younger man for a long moment, and then said, "Suit yourself. Go change, and I'll ask him if he's up for a fresh comer." ~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
Tasuki planted his fist squarely beneath the handsome young man's chin. Blood spurted, smearing his knuckles. Hotohori Dover staggered a bit, and then righted himself, surprise glimmering in his bright golden eyes. Drawing blood marked the end of the match, and the two men immediately went to their respective corners.  
  
Nakago climbed into the ring. "I must say that I'm impressed, my friend." He told Tasuki, who was still breathing heavily. "You really took it to him." "Thanks." Hotohori joined them then, not looking nearly as vanquished as his opponent would have liked. "That was enjoyable." He said cheerfully. "Anytime either of you want a go, just be here before seven. I am always looking for a man to give me a good workout."  
  
Nakago handed a towel to Tasuki, who dabbed at his face with it. "How's the business going, Dover?" He asked.  
  
Hotohori shrugged. "My father makes the money, I consider it my sacred duty to spend it." Straight white teeth flashed as he smiled. "By the way, McCarty, I have been wanting to thank you."  
  
Tasuki looked up. "For what?"  
  
"Why, for bringing such a fair flower home with you from New Mexico." Hotohori's smile widened, and Tasuki found himself counting those white teeth, thinking of how he would like to forcefully remove a quantity of them.  
  
Nakago cast a sideways glance at his glowering friend. "You're speaking of Miss Brooks, Cyril's new sister- in- law?"  
  
"Of course." Hotohori confirmed. "I find her delightful- as fresh and warm as a summer's morning, and twice as lovely. " Nakago's expression was unreadable. "You have conversed with her?"  
  
"Yes, on several occasions." Hotohori's tone was rife with satisfaction. "In fact, I have made an engagement with Miss Brooks this morning. Would you both like a ride? I have a carriage waiting."  
  
"Thank you for asking, but Tasuki and I are making a morning of it. He has been a little gloomy since his return from the West." Nakago replied smoothly, ignoring the redhead's infuriated glare.  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that." Hotohori replied sympathetically. "I had better go and change, then. Please excuse me." With a nod, he slipped under the ropes to the floor and departed the room. Nakago watched him go, and then turned to Tasuki. "According to the gossip, Dover has been spending quite a bit of time with Missy."  
  
Tasuki said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes.  
  
"In fact, I heard from the Mulligan's cook, who heard it from the Bentons' upstairs maid, that Dover has seen her every day since her debut." Nakago added, with a meaningful look.  
  
"Then it is practically gospel, isn't it?" Tasuki snapped. "He's also been asking a lot of questions about the Brooks family."  
  
Tasuki looked away, refusing to encourage more gossip. Nakago shrugged and continued anyway. "Missy really is a lovely young woman . . .a novelty, new to town-"  
  
"I thought Dover had an understanding with Houki McLain!" Tasuki finally burst out. "After two scandals, I'm amazed he would dare to show more than a passing interest in any woman besides her."  
  
"Ah, but I have it on good authority that his father has laid down the law. The rumor is that he must find a suitable bride or be cut off from his inheritance."  
  
Tasuki's brows rose. "Isn't Houki suitable?"  
  
"I had thought so, but now I don't know. If Dover is seeing Missy every day, then I would think it safe to assume that his attentions have turned a new direction." Nakago slapped the younger man on the shoulder. "It would seem he has set his sights on your Miss Brooks."  
  
Tasuki's eyes flashed. "She's not my Miss Brooks!"  
  
"My mistake," Nakago replied silkily. "Though, if Hotohori Dover's intentions are what I think they might be, it's my guess that Miaka won't be anyone's Miss Brooks for much longer."  
  
~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~ 


	7. chapter seven

Wild Angels  
  
By Amiboshi-chan  
  
Chapter seven  
  
Tasuki shrugged on a charcoal gray suit coat over his crisp white dress shirt, then indulged in a moment of masculine vanity as he paused in front of the mirror. The carefully tailored coat hugged broad shoulders that flexed with muscle gained from months of hard ranch work in the territories.  
  
'Will Missy notice?'  
  
Where had that thought come from? Surely he knew from experience that Missy was never impressed by the cut of a man's clothes. . . least of all, his. Tasuki scowled at the thought. Missy had shown a modicum of curiosity in the way he sat a horse, but absolutely none in the way he dressed.  
  
'Perhaps that was because she was waiting for you to be thrown on your ass.'  
  
A knock at the door brought his dark musings to a halt. He crossed the room in four long strides and opened the door. Nakago was leaning against the jamb, his _expression a study in annoyed forbearance.  
  
"If this invitation had come from anybody but cousin Yui, I swear I would take off this damn coat and go to the office to get some work done." He said, a bit sulkily.  
  
"So don't go," Tasuki replied calmly. "I am not looking forward to your smirks and chuckles anyway- and I'm sure Yui would understand."  
  
"Oh no- you can't get rid of me that easily." His friend retorted. "I have a feeling there is more to this party than meets the eye. Mother has been positively close-mouthed. . . and I have not heard from Clair since we returned from Cyril's wedding. Silence among the O' Bannion women is never a good sign. Then there is that conversation with Hotohori Dover. The pot is simmering."  
  
Tasuki opened his mouth to deny Nakago's suspicions, and then promptly snapped it shut. Something was going on, and he had an uneasy feeling that Missy Brooks would end up right in the middle of it. Missy... along with the debonair Hotohori Dover. ~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
Across town at Tokaki O'Bannion's manor, Missy sat worrying her bottom lip with her front teeth.  
  
"Stop that." Yui's reprimand brought immediate composure to Missy's face. "Now come sit down so I can finish your hair."  
  
"I'm so consarn--" Missy quickly amended her speech. "I mean, I'm terribly nervous, Yui." She sat down in front of the French style vanity and watched her new friend's reflection in the mirror.  
  
"You'll do fine." Yui assured her, after a heavy sigh. "You have learned a great deal these past few weeks."  
  
"Thanks to you and Hotohori. " Missy frowned. There seemed to be even less color to the blonde's porcelain skin. "Yui-are you feeling all right?"  
  
"Please don't fuss-you sound like Papa. Of course I am all right. Hotohori has been a dear, hasn't he?" At the abrupt change of subject, Missy tried to turn to look directly at her friend, but a sharp tug at her hair kept her in place. "Be still." Yui ordered, as she looped and fastened long russet strands. "And remember, Missy is gone. . . you are a different woman with a different name." She continued, as she braided a tiny length of pearls and a spray of small, white flowers into the side of Missy's hair.  
  
"I do feel like a different person- I just have to remember to answer to that name when I'm called." Missy's laughter was brittle with tension.  
  
Smiling, Yui stepped back to assess her handiwork. "Now you are ready. Go to the gazebo in the backyard, but don't let anyone see you until I introduce you to my guests. Hotohori knows what to do when he arrives."  
  
Missy's mouth went as dry as a sun-baked arroyo. "Do you really think Ta- everyone will notice the change in me?"  
  
Yui paused at the bedroom door. "A person would have to be stone cold dead not to notice the change in you! Missy is gone. Don't even think of yourself as Missy anymore. You are Miaka Brooks, and you are every inch a proper lady." ~ ~ ~*~ ~ ~  
  
Downstairs, the maids effectively directed the new arrivals to the back garden, creating a steady stream of traffic through the house. The fragrance of roses wafted through the open French doors on a rain freshened spring breeze. Small tables set with crisp white linen and a crystal vase holding a single pink rosebud had been strategically placed among the flowering shrubs and sweet smelling vines.  
  
From her perch within the gazebo, Miaka took in the magnificent, romantic garden. She peered out from among the blooms surrounding the gazebo and studied each new arrival with excitement and dread. "Miaka Brooks. . . my name is Miaka Brooks," She chanted under her breath.  
  
A new group of arrivals spilled through the French doors and out onto the lawn. Yui stood ready to greet them. She smiled widely, but Miaka was concerned about the pale blue smudges beneath the blonde's eyes. Yui had not been getting enough rest while preparing for this party, she thought guiltily. Then Miaka's gaze fell on the cluster of new arrivals, and her heart lodged like a stone beneath her chest.  
  
"Welcome, gentleman." Yui reached up on tiptoes to give first Nakago, then Tasuki, a peck on the cheek. "I'm so glad you could attend."  
  
Tasuki McCarty, smiled at Yui, and then scanned the garden with narrowed eyes. Miaka drew back into the gazebo and flattened herself against a pillar, feeling like a rabbit cringing in the brush while a hawk sought her out.  
  
"Have some refreshments, please." Yui suggested. Tasuki picked up a crystal cup of punch and brought it to his lips. He was oddly disappointed not to find Missy among the fresh faced debutantes and their escorts.  
  
Nakago nodded towards the door. "Just as I suspected," he said with a smile.  
  
Tasuki turned, expecting to see the elusive Miss Brooks. Instead he saw Clair O'Bannion, Nakago's elder sister, along with Patricia, and Hotohori Dover. The trio stepped into the mottled patterns of sunlight filtering through the leaves of the copper beeches.  
  
"Nakago. . ." Clair released Hotohori's arm and made her way to them. He gown of pale blue lace and darker gray silk ruffles caught in the light. "My favorite little brother. And you must be the elusive Tasuki- it's a pleasure to meet you at last! Wasn't it a lucky thing that Yui decided to have a garden party?"  
  
Clair obviously did not expect an answer, since she never halted her prattle long enough to receive one.  
  
"Where is your husband?" Nakago asked, peering over her head at the door behind her.  
  
"On a boat on his way to Australia, as of two days ago. He's helping father with some business involving Ashland Shipping." Clair's _expression made it clear that she was surprised and shocked that he had left her. "Very inconvenient timing, considering- well, no matter. I will make that announcement later." Clair's frown turned upwards into a mysterious smile.  
  
"Mother?" Nakago frowned. "You know that Tasuki and I would have been happy to escort you and Clair."  
  
Patricia had her arm draped lightly through Hotohori's, in a gesture of familiarity. "How sweet of you darling, but Hotohori stopped by and was dear enough to offer to take us in his carriage. There was no reason to trouble yourselves." Nakago blinked. He had never known his mother to tell an outright lie, but she had been known to bend the truth in fifty different ways. He wondered if she was doing so now.  
  
Yui greeted the two women and Hotohori, all blond curls and happy smiles, and the tension of the moment evaporated. "It's so wonderful to see you, Aunt Patricia." She turned and looked at Hotohori. Neither Tasuki nor Nakago were sure why, but two small circles of red suddenly appeared on her cheeks as she spoke. "And you, Hotohori, thank you so much for coming." She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "We are in your debt and never could have done it without you." Tasuki frowned, wondering what that remark had meant, but he had little time to speculate as Yui turned towards the gazebo and extended one milk white hand. "Allow me to introduce Miss Miaka Brooks."  
  
Telling herself she was indeed Miaka Brooks, Missy lifted her chin and stood straight, silently reciting every instruction Yui had given her as she emerged from her hiding place and made her way down the three shallow steps of the gazebo. She almost felt like a fairy princess when she stepped into a shaft of sunlight and her satin slippers touched the verdant turf. Conscious that she was the center of attention, she inhaled a deep breath of air freshened and sweetened by yesterday's rain, and brought her chin up one more notch. There was no turning back now... not with him watching.  
  
Tasuki knew he was staring, bug-eyed and ill mannered, but he could not help himself. His eyes devoured the woman coming towards him and a diffused heat spread from his belly to his limbs, even as a little voice in his head reminded him that this confection was only opinionated, bullheaded Missy- nothing to get all hot and bothered about. Yet his senses questioned the voice of reason, as what he saw as a new woman smiled shyly and glanced his way.  
  
Patricia's smile was warm with delight as she stepped forward. "Hotohori, is this what you were telling me about? My stars, you did not exaggerate. How she has blossomed. . ." Her voice trailed off as she and Hotohori walked past Tasuki towards the girl they had known as Missy.  
  
"You look lovely, my dear, simply lovely." Patricia's eyes swept from the red shimmering hair to her satin clad toes. "Do I call you. . . Miaka?"  
  
"Yes, if you please, ma'am. My given name is Miaka. . . and I've decided to use it." Miaka smiled.  
  
"Your frock is stunning," Patricia exclaimed. "The soft pastel color is so becoming on you, with your shade of red hair. I never would have been so creative."  
  
"Yui has been kind enough to allow me the use of her dressmaker," Miaka replied, carefully enunciating each word. "The two of them advised me on the most becoming shades of fabric for my coloring."  
  
Patricia shook her head, sunlight glinting along the waves of her silvery curls. "If this is the result of a cleverly sewn frock in a proper hue, then I must change dressmakers at once." She laughed and touched Miaka's arm affectionately.  
  
"Nonsense, Patricia, you are the most handsome woman in New York." Hotohori quickly and gallantly denied any need for her to change her couture. "As you well know." He added, sending Miaka a playful wink.  
  
Tasuki felt his gut lurch. Hotohori's blatant flirtation with Miaka was just too much. Even as the knot in his middle tightened, he told himself it was foolish to think that Missy would never be interested in a dandified rake like Hotohori. She wouldn't have had the time of day for a man like that back home. Would she?  
  
Miaka smiled and allowed her thick lashes to sweep over her eyes.  
  
"Hotohori, you are shameless in your flattery." Patricia smiled again at Miaka. "But of course Miaka would already know that about the most charming bachelor New York has to offer."  
  
Tasuki scowled at the implication, then took a deep breath, determined to get his rebellious pulse under control.  
  
"Better be quick, the bees are at the flower." Nakago whispered behind him. Tasuki tried to come up with something scathing to say, but was distracted. Suddenly, the air had come alive with the sound of formal introductions as every unattached bachelor in the garden approached to meet Miss Miaka Brooks.  
  
"Miss Brooks, I would be honored if you would let me take you to see the statue in our harbor. It is called 'Liberty Enlightening the World'." One tall lean, fellow with short black hair exclaimed.  
  
"If you are not otherwise occupied, please say you will accompany me to the theater next Saturday." Another fresh faced swain pleaded, as he elbowed his way closer to Miaka.  
  
'I don't care. My plans to not include romance or marriage or standing court with all these fawning young men.' But Tasuki's feet had begun to move before his brain fully registered the thought. He nudged his way through the circle of admirers, and by sheer persistence and a bit of brute strength, finally found himself standing at Miaka's side. He stared at her smooth, elegant shoulders, revealed by the clever bodice of her pale yellow gown, then at her hair, which was piled on her head and twined with tiny white flowers and pearls. The elaborate style made her look older and more sophisticated than he had ever thought possible.  
  
He shook his head, as if to clear it. This was insane. He had to speak to her, to hear her fling insults at him so this magical snare would be broken.  
  
"Miaka?" His voice was deep and husky. The sound of his undeniable interest surprised and embarrassed him.  
  
Every nerve in Miaka's body prickled and danced; there was no mistaking the low voice that sent shivers down her spine. She drew in a breath and waited, hoping that the butterflies would leave her middle.  
  
"Well, which is it- Miaka or Missy?" Tasuki taunted her softly. "What shall I call you?"  
  
She turned slowly, determined not to fall into the trap he had baited. In the past she had obliged him by reacting before she thought. Not today. "I was christened Miaka Shelagh Brooks."  
  
For a moment his smile slipped and something- she was not sure what- clouded his eyes. Then one brow lifted and he gave her the sensual, teasing smile that always made her breath catch. "Now that has a ring of the old country to it." Tasuki said, staring directly into her shimmering eyes, as he waited for her to sting him with her vitriolic tongue. When the cool and collected Miaka Brooks revealed the untamed firebrand that simmered inside the stylish yellow dress, these young swains would fall away like dried leaves. Any minute now she would start to cuss and bluster. . . but to his shock and dismay, she only smiled and swept those remarkably thick, dark lashes over her sparkling green eyes once again.  
  
"As you say, Tasuki," She agreed demurely. "I do stick out like a sore thumb here in New York, part Irish and part Japanese- a cat's whisker from being a barbarian, wouldn't you say?"  
  
(Author's Note: Yes, I know, it's cheesy. I actually came up with this line in a story that I wrote a few years ago, which never saw the light of day it was so bad. The original line was part Irish part Indian. . . but I had to make it fit the character. My friend thought that line was cute, so I threw it in for her. There ya go, Steph!)  
  
Tasuki was at a loss for words. After a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke in a soft voice. "No, I wouldn't call you a barbarian, and neither would anyone else within my hearing, I assure you, Miaka." A sudden burst of possessiveness flared inside of him. He wanted to take her away, to keep the others from baying around her like hungry dogs, to have her all to himself.  
  
His gaze locked with Miaka's. Heat rose between them like fog on a warm April morning.  
  
'Breathe, you idiot...breathe!' A voice inside his head shouted.  
  
"So tell me how you ended up being Missy all these years." Hotohori's voice broke the enchantment as the young man smoothly insinuated himself between them. Tasuki felt something start to burn in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Miaka's lips curled up a little at the corners. It wasn't really a smile, but seeing her look at Hotohori in such a friendly way grated on Tasuki's nerves.  
  
"My youngest brother, Seth, could never quite get his tongue around Miaka Shelagh. It always came out like 'Missy'. Soon everyone was calling me that. Back home there would be no chance of changing it, but here in New York. . . I've decided to put little Missy aside." Miaka glanced at Tasuki from under the fringe of her lashes. "I'm a grown woman now and it's high time everyone realized it."  
  
"It's a lovely name, if you don't mind me commenting." Hotohori moved closer yet.  
  
'If Hotohori gets any closer he will be touching the edge of her skirt.'  
  
Tasuki told himself he was being a fool, but he also took a step nearer. Miaka tilted her head and glanced at him again.  
  
"The name suits you, Miaka." Hotohori continued.  
  
"I'm very glad you approve, Mr. Dover." Miaka lowered her lashes once again.  
  
"Please, call me Hotohori."  
  
"I'm not sure that would be proper. Do you think so, Tasuki?" She looked directly at him, and Tasuki felt as if he had been poked by a branding iron. "You are so much more knowledgeable about the way things are done in the city. Would it be proper to call Mr. Dover by his given name?"  
  
"Absolutely not." He said coolly. "You do not know the man well enough." Miaka shrugged and sighed. "Then I suppose you cannot call me Hotohori- yet. I am giving you fair warning, Miss Brooks, I intend for us to become much better acquainted." Hotohori smiled winningly.  
  
Tasuki's mind had begun to spin like a dust devil sweeping across the prairie. It was all he could do to stop himself from dragging Miaka through the French doors, on through the house and into the nearest carriage. Each time Miaka smiled at Hotohori something hot and liquid poured through his chest.  
  
'What is wrong with me? Why do I feel this way? Is it jealousy? It hurts like the devil, so it sure as hell can't be love.'  
  
"Now Miaka- pardon. I mean, Miss Brooks, let's you and I find a quiet, private corner so you can tell me more about yourself" Hotohori moved close enough for his thigh to crush her full skirt in a way that was almost intimate. "We never finished our conversation the other evening."  
  
'The other evening?' Tasuki's eyes widened. Damn it all to hell, this had gone on long enough. He took a step forward, prepared to bodily remove Hotohori Dover. But Patricia suddenly appeared and looped her hand through his arm. " Nakago is looking for you" She said, gently tugging him away, leaving Hotohori standing at Miaka's side. "Come have a cup of punch with us and let Hotohori get to know Miaka better." Tasuki went, but his head remained fixed looking back over his shoulder at Hotohori and Miaka, until the muscles in his neck pinched and cramped in protest. Patricia smiled inwardly. She had seen Missy's possibilities when they first met at Cyril's wedding, but thanks to Yui, everyone else now did as well. It made Patricia happy to think that she could help Miaka by finding a suitable young man. Yui had performed magic upon her, and some young swain would sweep her off her feet in quick fashion, offering her a life of culture and comfort in the city.  
  
"Mother, Nakago. . . I have a surprise for you." Clair smiled widely as they approached. "Rossmore and I discussed it before he left. We were going to wait to tell you, but. . ."  
  
"Tell us what?" Patricia's forehead crinkled. "What have you been keeping from us? Are you ill?"  
  
"No, I am not in need of medical attention, at least not in the way you mean, Mother." Clair smiled at Nakago, as she took a seat in a nearby chair. "In six months, you will be a grandmother, and you, Nakago, will be an uncle."  
  
Patricia's mouth fell open. For a full minute she held her stunned pose, and then she knelt beside Clair, unmindful of what the position on the lawn was doing to the delicate fabric of her gown. "A grandchild? My very own grandchild? Oh, Clair, this is wonderful. This is more than wonderful." Her eyes filled with happy tears.  
  
"Ross and I were not sure how you and daddy would take it. I hope you don't mind- I mean, does it make you feel old?"  
  
"It makes me feel splendid! Donovan will be as delighted as I am. I cannot tell you how he has longed for a tyke to bounce on his knee." Patricia's bottom lip quivered. "But dear, how do you feel? Are you all right?"  
  
"Actually, I feel better than I ever have." Clair smiled wider.  
  
"Nakago, call for a carriage at once." Patricia stood up, unaware of the grass stain on her gown. "I want to go home with Clair right away."  
  
Her son smiled. "Do you mind if I ride along as far as the office?"  
  
"Not at all, but don't dawdle." Patricia smiled and dabbed at her moist eyes.  
  
Tasuki was only half-listening; his interest had transferred from Clair to Miaka, as he heard Miaka laugh. Hotohori was leaning close, whispering something in her ear. "That is wonderful news, Clair, congratulations!" He offered weakly, wishing that he could stalk over to Dover and ask him what he thought he was doing. But as much as he wanted to, good manners prevented him from doing anything but stand where he was, with a false smile pasted on his face.  
  
Two hours later the party was in full swing, the news of Clair's pregnancy adding an extra dash of festivity to the crowd. Yui took a moment from her duties as hostess and found Miaka. "See, I told you it would be fine."  
  
"Yes, you did." Miaka studied Yui's face closely. There was almost no color to her cheeks. "Yui, I do think you should sit down for a moment." Worry for her friend, and guilt over all the party preparations, nudged at the corners of her mind. "You look pale. Are you feeling unwell?"  
  
"Stop worrying over me. You are supposed to mingle and meet new people, be adored by young bachelors and let 'some people' see that you can be a lady." Yui smiled, but the _expression seemed tired. "Besides, once I have fulfilled my part of the bargain you have to begin teaching me to sit a horse!"  
  
"You know I will." Miaka caught Hotohori's eye across the lawn and within a moment he approached, chair in hand. "Listen to Miaka, Yui- you need to rest a bit." He admonished gently.  
  
Yui smiled up at him. "Thank you. I believe I will, since neither of you will be satisfied until I do." She slid into the chair. "I never realized you were so gallant, Mr. Dover."  
  
"Then it's high time you start appreciating me. I am far more than meets the eye." Hotohori waggled his thin brows. "You know, Yui, there are some new animals brought into the zoological exhibit at prospect park in Brooklyn. Would you allow me to take you there tomorrow morning?"  
  
"Well. . ." Yui looked at Miaka. "Only if Miaka comes with us. It wouldn't feel right without her, and besides, papa would have a fit if I were not chaperoned."  
  
"I have been tagging along with you far too much." Miaka replied teasingly. "But if you insist..."  
  
"Then it is settled." Hotohori grinned. "I have an engagement at my club at seven, but as soon as I am finished, I will bring my carriage around." His smile widened. "Why don't I bring a picnic lunch? We can make an entire day of it."  
  
"That sounds absolutely wonderful." Yui glanced admiringly at Hotohori for half a minute, and then lowered her eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I must see to my guests." Placing her hands on the arms of the chair, she attempted to rise, but swayed unsteadily and sagged back into the chair as a wave of dizziness folded over her.  
  
"My goodness, Yui, you are certainly not well!" Miaka exclaimed, as she watched the remaining color drain from Yui's face. "You stay here, I'll go fetch your father."  
  
"Nonsense." Yui shrugged off Hotohori's gently restraining hand. "Don't get papa, I am fine- just a little lightheaded is all." She struggled to her feet- then suddenly crumpled like a broken china doll.  
  
"Oh no! Yui! " Miaka cried out, as her friend slid to the ground.  
  
Her outcry immediately caught Tasuki's attention. He paused long enough to see Miaka kneel beside Yui and tenderly lift her friend's head into her lap, then turned and hurried toward the house, yelling for Tokaki as he went.  
  
"Fetch the physician!" Tokaki barked at a maid when he had been informed. He plunged out of the house to the garden and burst through the circle of guests that had gathered around Miaka and Yui.  
  
"Yui. . . oh Yui...." Miaka gently cradled her friend in the folds of her full skirt. Her fingers stroked the silky blond hair.  
  
Yui's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled weakly. "I am not hurt. Please do not worry about me."  
  
Tokaki dropped down beside Miaka and gathered his daughter into his arms, with Tasuki right behind him. "If you don't mind, Tasuki, would you see that our guests make their way to their carriages?" He asked gruffly, before turning an accusing stare to Miaka. "I knew this would happen! I told her that she was doing too much!"  
  
"Papa, stop it." Smiling weakly, Yui reached a slender hand to take Miaka's fingers. "Don't listen to him, Miaka. I have enjoyed myself more than I can tell you."  
  
"That is no excuse for your friend to take advantage of your delicate condition!" Tokaki growled.  
  
"There is no need for worry. I will be fine." Yui stated. She looked at Miaka, whose eyes were brimming with unshed tears, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "But I'm afraid we shall have to postpone your half of our agreement for a little while longer." 


	8. chapter eight

Thanks for bearing the long wait! I'm back from vacation, and finally have another chapter to post. Enjoy!

Wild Angels

By Amiboshi-chan

Chapter eight  
  
"Mrs. O'Bannion, how long do you suppose it will be until Yui is up and around?" Miaka looked down the long dining table at her hostess. After Yui's collapse, Patricia had insisted Miaka come home with her to the spacious brownstone. Considering Tokaki's reaction to his daughter's condition, Miaka was grateful for the offer.  
  
"Oh, dear, it is difficult to say." Patricia rubbed the furrow between her brows. "Donovan, will you speak to Tokaki tomorrow? Perhaps you can get some information about Yui's condition."  
  
Donovan O'Bannion nodded at his wife. He had been silent and his face was drawn with what Miaka judged to be worry over his niece, but then perhaps he too held her responsible for Yui's illness.  
  
Miaka nervously ran her finger over the edge of one delicate blue and white china plate. Everyone was so somber. It was nothing like her dinners at home in the territory.  
  
She thought of all the hours she had practiced her table manners on a card table in Yui's room. Guilt and worry for her friend enveloped her. Miaka closed her eyes and prayed the Yui would recover. The doctor had assured them all that se was not in mortal danger, but Miaka could not forget the image of her friend's pale face. She opened her eyes, but kept them focused on her plate. If she dared look up, she would be forced to see Tasuki, who was positioned directly opposite her. She did not want to find disapproval in his eyes, as she had in Tokaki O'Bannion's.  
  
She shifted uncomfortably on the soft padded chair, occupying herself by plucking at a row of tiny ribbons on the bottom of her burgundy sateen bodice.  
  
"It troubles me to see you so worried, Miaka. Yui will recover." Patricia's voice drew her attention. The maid, Tilly, was serving fillets of whitefish covered in a thick cream sauce. "There is no need to be so concerned."  
  
"I feel so responsible." Miaka worried her bottom lip with her front teeth, a habit that had annoyed Yui to no end.  
  
"The physician said that it was nothing serious," Nakago interjected.  
  
"Do you hear that Miaka?" Patricia continued. "You must try to put it out of your mind. If you don't eat, you will become ill yourself, and that will not do Yui any good."  
  
"Yes ma'am, I'll try." Miaka watched Patricia lay her napkin in her lap. Mechanically she mimicked her graceful movements.  
  
"Uncle Tokaki will call in a battery of specialists," Nakago stated solemnly. "Yui will have the very best of care. Our uncle is a bit overprotective, Miaka." He explained with a gentle smile. "but I'm sure she will have roses in her cheeks soon enough."  
  
Tasuki tried not to notice the deep furrow between the dark wings of Miaka's brows. She was upset, but she would force herself to be strong, because she was the most stubborn Brooks of them all. He wished he could think of some way to make her feel better. But on the heels of that thought, he wondered why he yearned to comfort her.  
  
He was being ridiculous. Still, a gnawing ache materialized every time he looked at her pinched face. How could Tokaki have been so insensitive as to imply that Miaka had in any way caused Yui's collapse? With Yui's medical history it was foolish to try and lay the blame at Miaka's feet. "Tokaki didn't mean what he said, Miaka." Tasuki heard himself say. "He was just worried about Yui and pick you as the easiest target for his anger."  
  
Miaka looked up and swallowed hard. In her mind she knew that Tasuki was right, but in her heart a kernel of guilt remained. She ducked her head and went back to her silent prayers for Yui's quick recovery.  
  
"Well, at least some wonderful new came at the party." Patricia reminded everyone in the silence. "Isn't it grand? Donovan and I are going to be grandparents." Miaka looked up, and she could swear that Donovan's chest puffed out a little.  
  
"It is great news, but Clair's husband sure picked a helluva time to leave his wife." Tasuki said with a frown.  
  
"It couldn't be helped." Donovan said, glaring at his plate. "O'Bannion Shipping is in the thick of a business merger with Ashland Lines. Rossmore was needed in Australia to oversee negotiations. The whole situation is very delicate- the slightest little thing could blow the whole deal."  
  
"Are things really that serious?" Nakago asked. He had his own investments, separate from the family, and rarely got involved with the business.  
  
"Serious is too mild a word," Patricia answered irritably. "Horace Ashland has been prickly about the whole thing."  
  
"Now don't say anything against Horace," Donovan said defensively. "He is just being. . .well, cautious." Donovan's gaze locked with Tasuki's who realized immediately what he had meant. Violet was the apple of her fathers eye, and if Violet wasn't happy, Horace would make sure nobody else was either. And Horace had never heard the real version of what had happened.  
  
Tasuki focused on his plate, but his appetite was gone. Violet Ashland was becoming a thorn in his side. He had thought he was free of her machinations when he left New York, but now it seemed she was binding him in a web once again, and dragging is newfound friends down with him.  
  
"Let's not speak of things in the past. Clair is expecting a baby, and Yui will recover." Patricia picked up her wine glass by the stem. "I propose a toast. To the future!"  
  
Everyone, including Miaka, followed her lead. "To the future," they said in unison. But while Tasuki swallowed a mouthful of wine, he asked himself if he was so sure of the future that he had planned. Miaka drank and looked at Tasuki from underneath her lashes. For a moment his expression softened, but then he frowned and looked back down at his glass.  
  
He was dressed in a plain white shirt, without a tie. A dark russet coat hugged his shoulders. His red hair was swept back from his face, but a few wayward strands hung in his eyes. He looked as if he had dressed quickly, and somewhat carelessly. It gave him an air if ease. He looked more like her brothers did at dinner than she had expected him to look living his life as a New York gentleman.  
  
While she studied him an almost overwhelming wave of homesickness folded over her. She drew in a deep breath and fought back the sting of tears. 'what is the matter with me?' she wondered. Abruptly Tasuki looked up, and their eyes locked in a compelling gaze. Her breath lodged in the back of her throat as his lips curved up slightly. Her face began to heat from the base of her neck to the roots of her hair.  
  
The meal progressed from soup to dessert in silence. After coffee was poured, Nakago leaned back in his chair. "I suppose Yui will be in an invalid's chair again." He said softly, shaking his head sadly.  
  
Miaka gasped, pulled from her own thoughts. "An invalid's chair? Is she so ill she needs an invalid's chair?" Her voice cracked. She inhaled deeply, determined to steady herself. "I can't imagine anything worse than having to be dependant- not being able to walk or do for yourself." A painful lump lodged in her throat. The image of being trapped in a body that would no longer do her bidding was more frightening than anything she could think of. Hot tears stung the back of her eyes.  
  
"Rod, sometimes you are absolutely thick," Tasuki snapped. "You did nothing, Miaka. Yui is simply delicate. She will be alright."  
  
Miaka managed to draw herself up and place both her palms on the table. She held her chin steady and blinked back the hot sting in her eyes. Suddenly Tasuki reached out. He laid his hand on top of hers. It was rough, heavy and warm. He stared at her, and the hold of his gaze was almost hypnotic. "And she would not be so frail if Leland would stop treating her like a hothouse flower." He said to everyone, but his eyes never left her face.  
  
Patricia clucked in dissaproval. "How can you say such a thing, Tasuki? What an unkind sentiment."  
  
"Yes, Tasuki, when did you find time to attend medical school?" Nakago's eyebrows rose in mock curiosity.  
  
"I may not be a doctor, but I did learn a few things while I was gone." A strand of red hair fell down across his eyes as he spoke, still staring at Miaka as if he were speaking to her alone. "Look at Missy and her sisters compared to Yui. There are no frail women in the territory, only strong women of grit and determination."  
  
Miaka felt the heat climb to her earlobes. Instead of being comforted by Tasuki's words, they made her feel rough and unfeminine. She forced herself to meet his gaze, even though her heart was breaking. "If you don't mind, I think I will go up to my room now" Miaka pulled her hand from beneath his and pushed her chair back, moving carefully so as not to tread on the edge of her skirt.  
  
"Yes, get some rest." Donovan smiled, but his brows were still pinched together. "Things will look better tomorrow. They always do." He gave her a little wink.  
  
"Thank you, and please accept my gratitude for inviting me into your home." She took one step, then paused and turned. "Oh, I forgot, Mrs. O'Bannion, Mr. Dover had planned to take Yui and I to the zoological exhibit tomorrow- "  
  
"You agreed to go to the park with Hotohori Dover?" Tasuki blurted out.  
  
"Yes." Miaka saw his expression grow even more grim. Her chin came up a notch as she prepared to defend herself and her decision. For a moment she almost explained that she was only going to accompany Yui, but then her temper flared. "Is there some reason why Mr. Dover should not take me -and Yui- to the park?" Her words were clipped and defensive.  
  
"Yes-no. . ." Tasuki bumped his saucer, spilling coffee on the white tablecloth, turning it a dirty dull brown. He dabbed at it for a moment, then flung his napkin down in frustration and glared at Miaka. "Oh damn it all, that wasn't exactly what I meant."  
  
"Tasuki, are you trying to tell me what I can and can not do again?" Miaka carefully enunciated each syllable.  
  
Tasuki stood up and leaned forward, coming as near to her face as he could with the table between them. He placed his palms on either side of the coffee cup and narrowed his eyes. "Don't start putting words in my mouth, Missy. What I meant was this is New York, not Wyoming. You cannot go about in carriages with men who are practically strangers to you."  
  
She glared at him and leaned closer. "Oh, you are impossible. Mr. Dover is hardly a stranger to me, or you and this family for that matter. And I will go with whomever I wish."  
  
Tasuki's mind raced, searching for a sound reason to contradict the truth. "Not without a chaperon," He blurted out. He tilted a brow, infinitely pleased that he had been able to grasp a plausible explanation for his behavior and objection to Hotohori. No one could twist his meaning or his intentions, and nobody could accuse him of not looking out for Miaka's best interests.  
  
Patricia made a clicking sound, and Tasuki turned to look at her. She was staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Hotohori is a perfect gentleman, as you well know. Now I think it is time for Miaka to get some rest." Patricia turned her concerned eyes to Miaka. "And don't worry about any of this, dear."  
  
Miaka nodded. "Yes, ma'am." She turned to Tasuki and gave him a stare that could have frozen water. "I am flattered by your concern, Tasuki, but as Mrs. O'Bannion says, there is no cause for you to worry about me. You are not my keeper." She turned on her heel and walked to the curving staircase. Tasuki could only stare at her with his mouth agape.  
  
Tasuki lay in his and listened to the ticking of the clock below. He had not slept - could not sleep with the thought of Miaka only a few yards away.  
  
He'd heard Patricia and Donovan go to bed hours ago, and even the soft sounds of Nakago moving around in his room had long since subsided.  
  
And yet I cannot sleep.'  
  
He rose from his bed and shoved the window open. The sultry night air washed over him. He wanted to speak to Miaka, to get this silly misunderstanding cleared up, to explain.  
  
Explain what? That you are driving yourself mad with jealousy? Or that you can think of nothing but kissing her? Or that you were a stupid dolt to think you wanted to be a bachelor forever?'  
  
He silently cursed himself and dragged his hands through his hair. He had shed his shirt and boots, but was still wearing his trousers. A night bird called and he shivered.  
  
This has gone on long enough. I have to talk to Miaka.'  
  
Tasuki eased open his door and tiptoed down the hall to Clair's old bedroom. He stood there, with his hand poised to knock, while he tried to imagine what he would say. Finally, when nothing came to mind, he turned and started back to his own room, but the pull of Miaka would not let him go. Taking every care to be quiet, Tasuki put his hand on the knob. He turned it slowly, expecting it to be locked.  
  
It wasn't.  
  
He pushed the door open and stepped inside, telling himself that he had lost his mind.  
  
He didn't care.  
  
The soft sound of breathing could be heard coming from the canopied bed. He crept closer, intent on getting a glimpse of Miaka, determined to satisfy his craving for her with one innocent look. The glow of gaslights from the street beyond illuminated half of the  
  
moon. Tasuki tiptoed near the bed.  
  
Miaka had awoken the moment the door opened. Growing up in the territory meant sleeping with one eye open. She had nearly called out, but then something- some instinct- told her the intruder was Tasuki.  
  
Her pulse escalated as the dark form crept toward the bed. She could hear the echo of her heartbeat against the feather pillow, and strangely, the thud of her heart seemed to mirror a dull throbbing between her legs.  
  
He moved into the slender shaft of light and she saw his chest, wide and muscled, then his neck and finally the lower half of his face.  
  
Lord almighty, she wanted him in her bed.'  
  
The realization made her breath catch in the back of her throat. Miaka could no longer hide from the truth of her feelings.  
  
She wanted Tasuki to love her.'  
  
Tasuki stopped only inches from the bed. He touched the curtain at the nearest poster, telling himself to turn around and leave before he woke her up and she screamed like a catamount.  
  
"I am not asleep, Tasuki." Miaka whispered.  
  
And with that admission, Tasuki knew he was not leaving.  
  
With a husky moan of submission and lust, he was beside her. His hands were on her before he even knew that was his intention.  
  
"Oh, Miaka," he inhaled the scent of her hair, touched the soft fleshy mounds of her breasts.  
  
"Why did you come?" She asked.  
  
"How could I not?" He kissed her then. It was a kiss full of savagery and hunger. A kiss he had denied wanting-a kiss he would never forget.  
  
He hands were curious and seemed to have a mind of their own. She found the width of his shoulders. His muscles flinched under her hands as she explored the feel of him. He was as hard and lean as she had imagined he would be. As she touched him a wave of heat enveloped her.  
  
"God, Miaka -Missy- I have wanted. . ." his voice trailed off as he nuzzled her neck and nibbled on the ear that had been fascinating him for weeks.  
  
She had never been with a man, but growing up on a ranch left little to the imagination about how they would couple. The persistent throbbing between her legs urged her to explore more of his body, even while a voice in her head warned her that she was playing with fire.  
  
"I want you." Tasuki climbed into bed beside her. A part of him knew what he was doing was wrong. "I should've come sooner."  
  
"What made you come now?" Miaka twisted her fingers in a lock of his hair.  
  
"Tomorrow I'll get our tickets," he said while he kissed her throat, feeling her pulse under his lips.  
  
"Tickets? For what?"  
  
"So we can go back home-just you and me." She became still as death. Her body seemed to grow cold as his hands rested on her waist.  
  
"Missy? What is it?" He raised himself on one elbow and peered into her shadowy face.  
  
"You just naturally assume you can come in here, climb into my bed and start making decisions for me." There was anger in her voice.  
  
"We don't belong here, neither one of us. Let's go back where we belong."  
  
"What about Violet Ashland?" Miaka sat up. Moonlight accentuated her full round breasts. "What about your fiancée. Tasuki? What will you do about her if we tuck our tails between our legs and run back to the ranch like a couple of thieves in the night?"  
  
Now it was Tasuki's turn to grow cold. He felt his desire wither. For some foolish reason he had thought-hoped- that Miaka did not know about Violet. It was pretty stupid, considering she had been standing right there when Violet had announced it.  
  
Tasuki's voice was as brittle as his control. "What about Violet?"  
  
"The lady herself says you are going to be married, and I don't hear you telling me that she was wrong. I saw the ring."  
  
Silence hung over them for half a heartbeat. Tasuki was torn. Should he tell Miaka that he had once loved Violet- had given her a ring and his heart, and had been crushed when she threw him over for bigger game? How could he explain that he had been entranced by her cool beauty, by what he had thought was a lady?  
  
"I think you had better leave," Miaka said softly as she drew the sheet up to cover herself. "I might not be a lady, but I won't be any man's fancy woman."  
  
Tasuki glared at her in the half-light for a few minutes, then he turned and left. He had to do something about Violet Ashland's lies, and then, by God, he was going to set Miss Miaka Brooks straight on a number of truths.  
  
The next two weeks passed slowly for Tasuki. He had tried to quell the rumors of marriage to Violet that were spreading like wildfire through the social circle, but it was not easy- not when Violet flitted around, showing off that damn ring. Why hadn't he taken it back when she ended it?  
  
Violet had done her work well.  
  
But why?  
  
Surely she did not believe that he would forgive her and want her back?  
  
Of course she would. Violet Ashland was just that spoiled and just that simple. It would never occur to the beautiful, cold-hearted bitch that any man, much less Tasuki McCarty who had been so besotted with her before, could or would ever turn down the offer of her company. And even though she knew he no longer held any regard for her, she would not be above using his friends' business interests and partnerships in blackmail to accomplish what she wanted. Patricia would be mortified by such a scandal, and Violet knew it.  
  
Bitch!'  
  
He took a drink of whiskey and then threw the glass as hard as he could. It hit Patricia's favorite wallpaper, staining one pink rose a dirty brown with the last of the whiskey. Within seconds he heard the rapid staccato of Tilly's feet.  
  
"Oh sir. What has happened?" Tilly's eyes were wide.  
  
"Sorry, Tilly." Tasuki muttered.  
  
"No problem, sir. I'll get a pan and a broom."  
  
"Just bring them to me, Tilly. I made the mess-I'll clean it up."  
  
She stared at him for a protracted minute, then she bobbed her head and scurried off.  
  
I made the mess-I'll clean it up.'  
  
His words echoed in his head. He was the only person who could get Violet and her lies under control. He flopped down on the settee and dragged his fingers through his hair. It would be a damn sight easier if he didn't see Missy everywhere he went.  
  
Miaka at the park with Hotohori. Miaka at DelMonico's with Hotohori. Miaka and Hotohori or Miaka and any number of young swains that now squired her around the city. It galled him every time he saw her, but it galled him even more that he had not ever managed to speak to her, and as far as he knew she had never even known he was there.  
  
He was miserable. And he was getting mad.


	9. chapter nine

_My editor, KittyLynne, is not available because of recent incidence (I won't elaborate on her personal affairs) But, I would still like to thank her for all of her help on this story so far. I know things will work out, KL, and I hope to be seeing you around here soon. _

_ Ami-chan _   
  
Wild Angels  
  
By Amiboshi-chan  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Tasuki tiptoed down the stairs, taking great pains to avoid the third rung which had squeaked the whole time he had been with the O'Bannions- and probably since before Nakago had begun to shave.  
  
A small sigh of relief escaped him when his boots at last touched the floor of the foyer and he silently congratulated himself for his success in not rousing the household.. The first gray-and-pink fingers of dawn had just begun to touch the windows, and the rays traced a jagged line across the toes of his boots as he shrugged on his suit coat. He was just about ready to slip out the door when a voice came out of thin air, halting him in his tracks, and causing the hair on the nape of his neck to stand on end.  
  
"Sneaking out, Tasuki?"  
  
He turned quickly to find a fully dressed Nakago watching him over the rim of a steaming cup of coffee and Tasuki cursed himself for not noticing the distinctive aroma at once. In the back of his mind he could almost hear Chichiri's derisive commentary about his lack of awareness-how if Nakago had been an 'unfriendly', Tasuki would be in a world of hurt.He shook his head at the thought and glared at its instigator, but Nakago only smirked and sipped at the hot brew.  
  
"You know, Tasuki, most of the people I am acquainted with do this the other way around- sneaking in at dawn, instead of out." The blond man's voice was spiced with dry amusement.  
  
"Shh. . ." Tasuki moved silently towards his annoying companion, his irritation growing with every step. "Keep quiet, or you'll wake the rest of them up." His voice was a husky rasp.  
  
"Hmm, I wonder which one of this household you do not want to wake and why?" Nakago leaned against the doorjamb of the dining room and took another long swallow from his cup.  
  
By now Tasuki would have dearly liked a bit of the tantalizing brew that had filled the entire room with its aroma, but he knew he didn't have time. "I am on my way out." He whispered harshly.  
  
"That, I think, is rather obvious. The intrigue lies in where are you off to at this early hour...and whom you are going to see?" Nakago's brows arched over his shrewd blue eyes. He could be as tenacious as a terrier with a soup bone when he wanted to be. "An illegal assignation, perhaps? A clandestine meeting with a woman?"  
  
Tasuki scowled. He had no liking for Nakago's brand of verbal sparring. "Just out," he snapped. "Do I need your approval?"  
  
Nakago gave him a placating smile. "Now, now...how about a strong cup of coffee and a bite to eat before you depart? I can rouse Tilly. She'd be glad to fix up some eggs and toast and we could talk about-"  
  
"Enough!" Tasuki cut him off. "I can see I'll have no peace until you know my business. I am on my way to the gentleman's club."  
  
Nakago nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee. "Indeed? The club? But the only pursuit that starts this early is boxing. . ." He grinned. "Wait a minute, I'll throw on a coat and come with you."  
  
"I don't have time for your nonsense," Tasuki snapped, "And I don't have time to wait for you to finish your coffee and to grab your coat!" The last thing he wanted was Nakago tagging along. He glanced back over his shoulder. "And don't you mention this- to anyone."  
  
Nakago held up one palm as if taking a solemn oath. "I assure you I will be the very soul of discretion."  
  
The look of feigned innocence on Nakago's face left Tasuki feeling as if someone had just walked over his grave.  
  
Tilly pulled open the window shades, allowing the brilliant morning light to flood her employer's bedouir. Patricia yawned. stretched and then rose from bed to pull on her yellow wrapper. "Is Miss Brooks still asleep?"  
  
"Yes ma'am. I peeked in and she was sleeping sound as a babe." Tilly answered cheerfully.  
  
"That is good. She really needed it, the poor dear. What time is it, Tilly?" Patricia yawned again as she began to pull a silver-backed brush through her long white hair.  
  
"It is just now eight, ma'am. Will you be wanting your tray up here?"  
  
"No, not today. I'll be down directly. Please wake Miss Brooks and then tell the cook I am ready for breakfast."  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
After Tilly quietly shut the door behind her, Patricia washed her face and neck at the basin and then gently patted them dry, closing her eyes in pleasure as the softness of the towel soothed her tired skin. She had not slept well. Memories of her conversation with Tasuki had kept her awake. Slowly her eyes opened and she stared at her pale features in the looking glass as she tried to make sense of what he had said.  
  
'Mrs. O'Bannion, I want you to disregard everything you hear about me and Violet Ashland. I can't explain now, but I promise that I will- soon.'  
  
Patricia sighed and forced herself to focus on her abolutions. When at last she opened her door she heard the long clock downstairs chime the half hour. She was on the second floor landing when Miaka appeared, dressed in a light green frock. There were dark circled beneath her eyes, as if she had not slept. Her hair was pulled back with a simple ribbon, and wisps curled around her neckline.  
  
"Morning, ma'am."  
  
"Good morning. Did you rest?"  
  
"Yes-no. I must have been more tired than I thought."  
  
Patricia studied Miaka's face in silence, and decided Miaka must have slept badly because she was worried about Yui. "Would you join me for breakfast in the dining room?" Now that Patricia had spent some time with Miaka, she was growing quite attached. Miaka was a breath of fresh air, guileless and unaffected, and surprisingly good company for one so young. For the first time Patricia realized just how much she missed having her daughters at home.  
  
She slipped her arm around Miaka's waist and went into the dining room, where she took a seat. The sound of the front door being opened caught her attention shortly afterward, and she swiveled in her chair to see the new arrival.  
  
Miaka found hercurious gaze following Patricia's line of vision. She nearly choked on her coffee when Tasuki appeared.  
  
"Tasuki?" Patricia smiled. "What a surprise- I thought you were still in your room. Come have a cup of coffee with us."  
  
Tasuki glanced at Miaka and she felt his anger- or was it disapproval? "No thanks, I. . ."  
  
"Tasuki." Patricia used a motherly tone that made Miaka sit up straighter.  
  
"All right, one cup." Tasuki walked into the dining room and sat down at the table. Miaka could help noticing that he kept his eyes averted, as if he couldn't bring himself to look at her. A cold finger of apprehension traced a line down her back and she fidgeted in her chair  
  
"What have you been up to so early?" Patricia cast a speculative gaze at Tasuki as she poured him coffee from the silver pot. She looked away as set the pot back on its tray, and then turned her full attention to him.  
  
"Nothing much." Tasuki reached to pick up his cup. Patricia let out a gasp and grabbed his hand.  
  
"What on earth have you done to your hands?" Miaka found herself looking up against her will. Her eyes were met with the sight of Tasuki's skinned knuckles.  
  
Patricia had fastened a tightlipped gaze on Tasuki. He shrugged, tugged his hand free, and picked up his coffee cup. From that moment on, an oppressive silence hung over the trio. Just when Miaka thought she would scream from the strain, Tilly entered the room to announce,  
  
"Mr. Dover has come to call on Miss Miaka."  
  
"Hotohori is here? He came?" Tasuki practically choked out the words. "The man has more damn brass than I gave him credit for," he muttered. "Never thought he'd want to show his face- especially not this morning."  
  
"What?" Patricia frowned. "Whatever are you talking about? I think Hotohori is smitten with Miaka, and I applaud his good sense."  
  
Tasuki stared at Patricia for a moment and then clanked his cup into the delicate saucer with so much force Miaka was sure it would crack. He turned to the maid, scowling furiously. "Tell Dover he can wait until Miaka finishes her morning coffee," he snapped.  
  
"Yes sir." Tilly's eyes were wide.  
  
"Thank you, Tilly, that will be all." Patricia said evenly. When the maid was gone she turned back to Tasuki. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I will not tolerate you abusing my staff."  
  
"Abusing?" Tasuki shoved back his chair and stood up. "I didn't say an abusive word!"  
  
"You didn't have to with a face as dark as a thundercloud! I am going upstairs to change for my meeting with the hospital charity committee and while I am gone I want you to apologize to poor Tilly." Patricia rose from her chair with all the dignity of a duchess. "I shall tell Mr. Dover that you will be out very shortly, Miaka."  
  
"Thank you, ma'am."  
  
As soon as Patricia stepped into the foyer and could be heard speaking to Hotohori, Tasuki turned to glare at Miaka. "What the hell is he doing here?"  
  
"Don't you dare use that tone with me!" Miaka hissed back.  
  
"Oh, so now I'm using a tone." Tasuki took two calming, drawn out breaths, then began again in a lower, more controlled voice. "Please tell me why Hotohori Dover is here?"  
  
"I won't tell you a thing." Miaka tilted her chin upward, her expression full of open defiance. "I don't have to answer to you."  
  
"That may be true, but you are damn well going to!"  
  
In the blink of an eye Tasuki was out of his chair and around the table. He pulled Miaka to her feet and glared down at her. "Just what the hell do you think you are doing, Missy?"  
  
She glared. "It's Miaka now- and I'm keeping company with a gentleman. One who isn't engaged to another woman."  
  
Tasuki flinched as if she had slapped him. The tight grip he had on her shoulders eased as he stared into her eyes, and for an agonizing moment Miaka thought he was going to walk away from her. Instead, without warning, he bent his head and captured her mouth with his.  
  
Miaka immediately sagged against his chest as the heady power of his kiss made the world disappear. She could no long hear Patricia and Hotohori in conversation. She could no longer smell the coffee, or hear the birds singing in the garden, or feel the floor beneath her feet. She clung to him, while every part of her being focused on Tasuki as he claimed and branded her with his lips. Then suddenly he pulled away and took a step backwards as Miaka sank weakly into her chair.  
  
"Take that with you while you are out with Hotohori Dover." He said quietly.  
  
"Take that with you while you are out with Hotohori Dover." Tasuki said, then stalked out the french doors and disappeared into the garden.  
  
Tasuki paced the grounds as he tried to get his temper under control. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Sneaking into Miaka's room was bad enough, but kissing her in the O'Bannion's dining room. . .good god, he was going to pieces.  
  
He raked a hand through his still damp hair. He heard Miaka's clear, sweet laughter, and his gut twisted like a sidewinder.  
  
He sat down on the stone bench near the flowery arbor and looked at his sore knuckles with a certain amount of satisfaction. Miaka had clearly wondered how he had barked his hand- he could see it in her eyes when she had stared at him.  
  
What would she say if he told her he'd done it on Hotohori's too handsome face?  
  
He swallowed hard. In the back of his mind he could heard Chichiri's laughter. Yep, he had it bad. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was in love.  
  
He was in love with Missy Brooks.  
  
An hour later Miaka bent her knees and dipped low enough to see her reflection in the mirror in the foyer. Ellen and Miss Baldwin, he dressmaker, had instructed her on which frock to wear with each bonnet and set of gloves, but she was never sure th jaunty angle where the bow rested against her jaw was quite right. She untied it and tied it again in a different position.  
  
"You look lovely my dear," Hotohori said from his position against the wall of the foyer. "I will be the envy of all the men in the park."  
  
"Yes, Miss Brooks, you do look especially lovely." Tasuki's voice made her start and she turned to find find him watching her from the dining room. His eyes were like fire and the expression she saw in them made her shiver with need.  
  
In desperation, Miaka turned to look at her escort. Light spilled through the window andonto the parquet floor where Hotohori stood. Tiny dust motes floated around the starched crease in his navy trousers and onto the white leather gaiters above his shoes. He was impeccebly dressed as usual, but there was something different about him. Miaka studied him carefully from under her bonnet. There was a certain familiar sootiness to the skin around his left eye. . .  
  
"Hotohori, you've got a shiner!" Miaka blurted out. She clamped her gloved hand over her mouth, but it was too late.  
  
Tasuki sauntered into the foyer and smiled at Hotohori. "Why Hotohori, you do have a mouse under your eye! What have you been up to?"  
  
Hotohori stared at Tasuki with an arched brow. When it was evident he had no intention of answering, Miaka turned and walked out to the waiting carriage.  
  
A while later, the carriage rolled along a lane canopied by horse chesnut trees, whose beautiful pinkish blossoms hung like grapes overhead. Miaka sat on Hotohori's left side, while Tasuki sat alone in the opposite seat. She sat primly, her hands folded in her lap, trying to avoid his intense scrutiny.  
  
She glanced furtively at Hotohori from under her bonnet, not surprised at all to see that his swollen eye was beginning to take on rainbow hues. She was not fooled by his lie about running into a door. THEY had been up to something together- Tasuki's knuckles and Hotohori's eye were somehow connected, and she wondered if it had been literally.  
  
"I don't know why you felt it necessary to come along," Miaka finally said to Tasuki. "Surely you have better things to do with your time." Her gaze involuntarily strayed to his hands.  
  
"It is necessary, because I feel responsible for you and your reputation," Tasuki replied smoothly, "and I cannot think of anything more pleasant to start the day than a morning carriage ride. " He smiled blandly at the other man. "By the by, Hotohori, I hope your little, uh, injury from running into that door is not giving you too much discomfort."  
  
Hotohori smiled broadly. "Not a bit- and even if it was, it would not be enough to keep me from visiting Miaka."  
  
A look passed between the two men and it suddenly occured to Miaka that if she were betting, she would have laid even odds that it was a silent challenge. She wondered what in blazes was going on.  
  
"What would it take to keep you away, I wonder?" Tasuki flexed his fingers, drawing Miaka's attention to his scraped knuckles.  
  
"It might be interesting for us to find out," Hotohori said happily.  
  
Miaka frowned at both of them.Suddenly she felt like a tattered old piece of leather being stretched between a couple of squabbling coyotes.  
  
"Miaka?" Hotohori's voice interuppted her thoughts.  
  
"I'm sorry, I was didn't hear you," she murmured.  
  
Hotohori grasped her hand. Even through the thin lace of her gloves, she could feel the silky smoothness of his palm. A man should have wide, rough and sturdy hands, she thought idly. Show me a man with a calloused palm, and I'll show you a man a woman can trust to keep her safe. A man with hands...just like the ones that had pulled her out of her chair that morning.  
  
She found her gaze going beyond Hotohori to Tasuki. His expression was darker than Hades and his eyes blazed with. . .jealousy?  
  
The word popped into her head, but she discounted it. No, Tasuki was not jealous. He liked to tease and belittle her and he liked to play around with her emotions by kissing her until she lost all of her good sense, but he certainly didn't care enough about her to be jealous.  
  
Miaka studied Hotohori's handsome, unlined profile.His features were smooth and even, but they lacked a fundamental strength. (Author's note: I know I know, but bear with me. Remember, Hotohori is neither an Emperor nor a seishi in this story). He would never be able to withstand the hardships of pioneer life, Miaka realized. And he'd never know the knd of satisfaction she had seen written across Tasuki's lean face at the end of every tiring day they had spent together out west.  
  
She forced her attention back to Hotohori and as he made small talk, she tried to dispel thoughts of Tasuki's hands upon her and the feel of his kiss, but she couldn't. A hot band tightened around her heart.  
  
"I paid Yui a visit before I came to pick you up," Hotohori said at last.  
  
He had finally succeeded in getting her attention. Miaka swiveled in her seat as far as she could without knocking her knees against Tasuki's. "How is she? How soon can I go and visit her?" A burst of excitement rippled through her.  
  
"She is much improved. She specifically said to send her regards, and it was she who suggested I come and take you for an outing." Hotohori slid a glance to Tasuki and swallowed hard. "But I must tell you, seeing Yui may prove to be a difficult prospect." He sighed, and patted her hand.  
  
"Difficult? Why?" Miaka asked. Tasuki shifted restlessly in his seat, his leg brushing against hers. He ciontinued to gaze out the side of the carriage as if he were interested in the scenery rolling by, but Miaka could tell he was listening intently.  
  
"I hope this doesn't greatly upset you, Miss Brooks, but Tokaki has forbidden Yui to see you."  
  
"What?" Miaka recoiled as if she had been struck. "Is Yui that ill?"  
  
"No, she is not. I had a long chat with the downstairs maid. She told me Yui is quite chipper these days and desperately longs for your company, but Tokaki won't be budged."  
  
Tasuki glanced up. "You seem to spend a lot of time gossiping with the help, Dover." There was ice in his voice.  
  
Miaka seared him with a look and he subsided. "Please Hotohori, tell me all you heard. I want to know about Yui." She pleaded.  
  
Hotohori nodded solemnly. "The maid swears Yui is gaining strength, but. . .  
  
"But?"  
  
"Oh dash it all- everyone knows that Tokaki is looking for someone to blame and he has somehow gotten it into his head that you are the cause of her most recent collapse. I'm sure he will come around, but for now you can't see her. Yui is very upset by his stubbornness, but of course she has little recourse at this point until she fully regains her health."  
  
"I see," Miaka said softly. Tears were burning at the back of her eyes, but she wasn't sure if they were present from being wrongly accused or because of guilt that Tokaki could be right and that she really had been responsible for causing Yui's ill health.  
  
"I'll talk to him if you want," Tasuki offered softly.  
  
'Damn his no good polecat's hide,' Miaka cursed silently, as Yui had taught her. She didn't want Tasuki to be nice to her- it was too hard for her to handle him that way but even as she mentally denied his help she found herself nodding her assent. "I'd appreciate that, Tasuki, thank you."  
  
"Do you want to join us for tea, Tasuki my boy?" Hotohori asked genially.  
  
"I don't know what I want anymore," Tasuki mumbled moodily. Oblivious to the bewildered glances of his companions, he turned aside and raked his hand through his hair.  
  
He was all tied up in knots. One minute he wanted to turn Miaka over his knee and the next he wanted to gather her up in his arms and kiss all her hurt away. She was driving him plumb crazy with her beauty, newfound grace and lady like manners, but if he was honest, he had to admit he missed their daily battles and the simmering emotions that used to flare between them. A mixture of anger, excitement and melancholy twined through him as he thought of the good old days, when Brooks and McCarty rode the free range as true companions in every sense of the word except one.  
  
An hour later the carriage drew up in front of the O'Bannion's brownstone. Tasuki immediately slipped out his door and stalked up the stone steps without so much as a word or a glance for Miaka and Hotohori.  
  
He wished he hadn't insisted on coming along. What had he been thinking? And worse, Missy probably hated him for it. He opened the door and stepped inside the house before Miaka had even stepped out of the carriage but then paused to watch her approach, for his raging jealousy would not permit leaving her to a private goodbye with Dover.  
  
"Have dinner with me tonight?" Hotohori pressed, as he strolled up the walk with Miaka on his arm. "I promise I will have nothing but good news of Yui." He smiled. "She doesn't want you moping around on her account, you know."  
  
Miaka wasn't sure she wanted to spend an evening with Hotohori, not when the imprint of Tasuki's kiss still burned on her lips. She was confused as to what to do, but then she saw him, standing just inside the screened doorway, watching Hotohori and her with folded arms and a harsh, disapproving expression.  
  
"What time will you come for me?" She blurted out.  
  
"Seven o'clock." Hotohori's happy smile grew wider.  
  
"Then I'll make sure we are ready and waiting for you, Hotohori ol' boy." Tasuki stepped outside and manuevered himself between Miaka and Hotohori as blatantly as he had insinuated himself into the conversation.  
  
Miaka arched her brows. "We will be ready?"  
  
"You know it's not done for a lady of your stature to run around town unchaperoned," Tasuki asserted as he returned her stare in full measure. "And I feel responsible for you... remember?"  
  
Miaka looked away. "Yes I remember." _Only too well.  
_  
Hotohori glanced from Miaka to Tasuki. "That's fine then. I shall be here at seven." He leaned forward as if to give Miaka a kiss, but Tasuki placed his hand on her arm and cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner.  
  
"Yes...um... well, ah, until seven then." Hotohori mumbled, settling for a slight bow in a Miaka's direction before turning and walking back to the waiting carriage.


	10. Chapter ten

_This chapter is for my editor, KittyLynne. I hope it helped take your mind off things for a while. Hugs and smooches!_

* * *

_Wild Angels_

_By Amiboshi-chan_

_Chapter ten_

Miaka sat in front of the vanity and stared at her reflection, thinking that the person in the looking glass was almost a stranger to her.

Dark red hair was carefully piled on her head. The navy gown she wore was elegant but not gaudy. Smooth shoulders were exposed in a way Yui had assured her would be demure and yet alluring. The image she presented was the epitome of a calm and refined young lady.

"So why do I feel like a bagful of barn cats are tied up inside my belly?" She asked the reflection.

Rising rose from the padded stool, Miaka carefully straightened the folds of the white sash draped over the front of the blue velvet skirt. It was drawn up at each hip with a small rosette- to emphasize her small waist, Yui had said, in contrast to the moderate-size bustle.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of her friend. She tried to swallow, but there was an obstruction at the back of her throat. Her nerves felt raw and she was edgy as a longhorn in a thunderstorm.

"I am just lonely for Yui's company," she muttered, as she paced the length of her room. "That must be why I am feeling high strung."

She tried to think of some way to appease Tokaki so she could see her friend. Maybe she could just apologize.

No. Tokaki wouldn't give in that easily. Besides, her pride wouldn't tolerate anything of the sort.

Perhaps she should bake a cake?

No. He would simply accuse her of feeding Yui a poor diet.

Perhaps-

A forceful knock on the door stopped her in mid-thought. "Yes?"

"It's me. Are you ready?" The loud rumble of Tasuki's voice sent a shiver up her spine. "Dover is at the door and obviously panting for your company, since he's a full twenty minutes early." He added, with a distinct edge to his tone that made her all the more irritable.

"I'll be right down." Miaka took a deep breath and turned to look at herself one last time. The image was one she had not yet grown accustomed to, but at least nobody else would doubt that she was a lady...except, perhaps, Tasuki McCarty.

The thought of him and the message she had received earlier in the afternoon brought an even larger lump to her throat.

She went to the vanity and picked up the note, unable to ignore the strong floral scent on the elegant stationary as she withdrew it from the envelope. The handwriting was precise and neat, the message short and to the point:

'Don't get too cozy with my fiancé or you and the entire O'Bannion family shall be sorry."

It was signed simply, ' V.A.'.

Miaka folded the message and returned it to the envelope, as a raw ache settled within her heart. What woman would dare write such a note unless she was deadly serious about keeping her man?

* * *

Tasuki watched as Miaka stepped out of her room and strolled elegantly down the staircase. The navy blue gown made her eyes look greener than ever. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that she was fetching, all decked out like that. Of course, she was a sight to behold in boots and chaps, too . . .

With an effort, Tasuki shook such thoughts from his head. It was best he remembered that he was only going as a chaperone, and to keep Miaka out of trouble. That was all there was to it.

* * *

The next morning, Tasuki tiptoed down the back stairs and out the servants' entrance, determined to avoid running into Nakago after the wretched night he had spent enduring Hotohori's moon-eyed glances at Miaka, and listening to his mewling, flirtatious chatter. Even worse, Miaka had barely acknowledged his presence, apparently too captivated by Dover's smarmy good looks and practiced charm to notice anything else.

Tasuki's fists clenched, and his jaw tightened. Yes, the last thing he needed this morning was to have to give an accounting to Nakago, when his emotions were still raw, and far too close to the surface.

What he _did_ need, on the other hand, was to get a little satisfaction.

Minutes later, he opened the doors to the gentlemen's club and stalked inside with all the finesse and manners of a grizzly bear.

"Somehow I knew you'd be early!" Hotohori Dover grinned as he unfolded himself from the leather side chair.

"Let's get to it."

Within moments they had changed were climbing into opposite corners of the padded ring.

"What made you think I'd come early?" Tasuki asked, as he stretched his tendons and warmed up his shoulders.

"I don't believe I'll tell you- not just yet." Hotohori replied cheerfully. He positioned his fists and jogged on the balls of his feet. "How do you feel about a little wager, McCarty ol' boy? If you can land a solid punch this morning, I'll tell you how I knew you'd be early."

Tasuki frowned, and then nodded. "All right, Dover- you've got yourself a deal!"

They met in the middle of the ring like dueling knights. Tasuki danced on his toes, intent upon turning Hotohori's handsome face into a bloody mess. That little voice inside his head, the one that sounded oddly like Chichiri, asked him _why_ he was so determined to mess up Hotohori's face, but, as with other things he didn't want to think about, he managed to ignore it.

Hotohori threw a lightening-quick punch. Tasuki, still preoccupied with his inner demons, reacted with something less than his usual stellar reflexes. He ducked, but a portion of Hotohori's fist connected with his eye. The stinging blow made it water and his ears ring.

"Now we are almost even," Hotohori said with a happy grin. "I had to tell that lie about running into a door far too many times."

"We are nowhere near even, by my way of looking at things. Not by a long shot!" Tasuki rushed in, throwing punches into his opponent's lean middle. Hotohori backed up a step.

Tasuki rammed his fist upward, catching Hotohori's chin. The bones in his hand tingled and stung, but the satisfaction of landing the blow made the pain bearable.

"Okay! Okay! You win!" Hotohori chuckled as he wiped his hand across the smear of blood on his chin. "You landed a punch." His eyes were twinkling with amusement.

Tasuki reluctantly lowered his fists, not at all happy about winning, for a part of him still wanted to lay the man flat out on the canvas. "So how _did_ you know I'd be here early?"

Hotohori picked up a towel and rubbed it along his chin. A crimson stain marred the thick white toweling. "It is obvious to everyone but you. I knew you would be here because of Miaka Brooks."

"What's Miaka got to do with this?"

'_Don't be dense, McCarty. When did any thought in your head not revolve around Missy?'_ The Chichiri voice challenged.

Hotohori shook his head and laughed. "You are crazy in love with her. Though, as contrary as you are, you will probably deny it just as you keep denying a wedding between you and Violet is in the wind." Hotohori climbed through the ropes. "I always thought you McCartys were an intelligent lot, but I have never seen a man as thick as you."

"Dammit, come back here! I'll show you how thick I am!" Tasuki snarled.

Hotohori held up his hand and kept on walking.

"If I were in love, it certainly would not be with Miaka Brooks!" Tasuki insisted.

His opponent paused. "Then does that mean you _are _intending to marry Violet?" Before Tasuki could answer, Hotohori disappeared into the changing room.

"I am not in love with anyone!" Tasuki yelled after him. "Nor am I marrying Violet!"

"Who are you trying to convince, Hotohori Dover or yourself?" A familiar voice asked blandly.

Tasuki whirled around. There, dressed in tights, grinning from ear to ear, was Nakago. "I don't have to convince anyone that I am not in love with Miaka Brooks." He snapped. "And I'm getting damned sick and tired of having Violet's name linked with mine!"

"Fine. Would you care to take a punch at me, or is that honor reserved only for men who dare to court Miss Brooks- the lovely young woman you are not in love with?"

Tasuki's eyes narrowed. He walked to the center of the ring and raised his fists. "Funny, Nakago, funny. You know, it has been a while. I would enjoy taking you down a peg or two."

"Not likely, but the effort might cheer you up." Nakago snorted. "That's a nice-looking scar you have there. I assume you got that out west?" He pointed at Tasuki's bicep.

'_I got it saving Missy from certain death.'_

Nakago stretched and threw a few mock punches as Tasuki remained silent. "Don't tell me you were dueling with knives when you weren't chasing cattle and whatnot?"

Tasuki's scowl deepened. "No! It was a disagreement with an angry longhorn."

"Really? I am impressed." Nakago danced a little closer. "By the by, I hate to bring this up- I mean, since you made it clear you're not interested- but Miss Brooks left the house right after you did this morning."

"So what if she did?" Tasuki didn't want to listen, didn't want to care.

"That means nothing to you, does it?"

Silence stretched between the two men as they threw punches that never quite landed. After several feints, Tasuki couldn't stand it any longer. He had to know.

"Well, what of it?"

"Ah, you _are _interested!" Nakago smirked. "I am not sure as to her destination, but she was carrying a bag."

Tasuki stopped moving. "A bag?"

"Yes, you know, as in a container for one's clothes? You don't suppose Miss Brooks left without saying goodbye, do you? But then, you wouldn't care, because as you made clear, you are not in love with her." Nakago gave Tasuki a taunting smile.

Damn, but Nakago could be a pain in the ass sometimes.

* * *

Miaka yanked her skirts and petticoats up between her legs and stuffed as much of the full ruffled edge as she could into her belt. The result she achieved by altering her pale blue frock wasn't as convenient as trousers, but it would have to do.

She looked up at Yui's window, craning her neck so far backward that for a moment she became dizzy. The sound of a horse and buggy passing drew her attention, but luckily Yui's bedroom faced the alley. Miaka could not be seen from the street.

She squinted her eyes against the sun as she tried to judge the distance she would have to climb. Including the thick stone foundation, she guessed it to be about twenty-five feet up to the wrought iron balcony that framed Yui's French windows.

"No higher than the lightening-struck cottonwood in the back of the ranch house," She assured herself. Hell, she'd shimmied up that old tree since she was old enough to run away from- or after- her brothers and sisters. Of course, it _did_ grow at a crooked angle because of the scars on its weathered gray trunk, and that slope made it more like a ramp than a tree. . . but that shouldn't make much difference.

Besides, there was no other way to visit Yui.

With a sigh of resignation, Miaka looped the straps of her carpetbag over her arm, grabbed hold of the ornate black Iron trellis and started to climb.

The rosebush tangled within the trellis was old and gnarled. The greenish brown stems, loaded with thorns, were as thick as her fingers. By the time she reached the first floor roof her palms were stinging from pricks.

Her skirt tangled in the grip of the briar rose. She tugged at the stubborn cloth and it finally jerked loose with a resounding rip. A scrap of her petticoat was left dangling from a long scimitar-shaped thorn. "Damnation," she muttered.

A few more tense minutes of picking her way through the maze and she was finally able to hoist herself and the bag over the second story balcony railing.

* * *

Tasuki finished buttoning his shirt during the carriage ride to the brownstone. He silently carried on a running argument with himself about why he had rushed from the athletic club and why he had allowed Nakago to needle him about Miaka.

'_She's not leaving. She can't be. It doesn't make sense.'_

But his thoughts gave him no reassurance. Maybe she _was_ leaving. He wouldn't be a bit surprised if she was; after all, he had known she'd be like a fish out of water in New York. Still, it wasn't like Missy to just turn tail and run back home- not like her at all.

'_But she isn't Missy anymore. She is Miaka- mysterious, sensuous, unpredictable Miaka.'_ And it was just possible the nonsense with Violet had her on the run.

He argued silently as to which it was, back and forth, and by the time the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the O'Bannion's brownstone he was in a fine fit of temper. He strode up the steps and flung open the door.

"Tilly!" His voice echoed through the oppressively quiet house. He had never noticed how silent the stately brownstone was until he remembered the Brooks' ranch. That house hummed with laughter and arguments. It vibrated with life.

As he was comparing the two places, Tilly appeared, eyes round with surprise. "Yes sir?" Shock and a perhaps bit of fear were written in her features.

Tasuki tried to wipe the scowl from his face; Tilly wasn't at fault for Miaka's disappearance, so why take it out on her? The memory of how the maid's lips had trembled when he apologized for his beastly behavior at breakfast stung at his conscience. "Is Mrs. O'Bannion in?"

"No, sir, she went to Miss Clair's," Tilly replied quickly. "They were going shoppin'."

Tasuki raked his hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. "Was Miss Brooks with her?"

"Oh, no, sir."

Hope died in his chest. When the O'Bannion women went shopping, they planned their strategy like conquering generals and did not come home until the campaign was over. He looked up at the staircase, willing Miaka to appear.

"Has Miss Brooks returned, then?" He couldn't entertain the thought that she had left him. _Had left New York,_ he mentally corrected.

"Returned, sir?" Tilly replied evasively, now twisting and mangling her apron between her fingers.

Tasuki turned his full attention to the maid. "Nakago told me Miss Brooks went out carrying a traveling bag." His voice was stern and a bit too loud.

Tilly wrung her hands in the white apron. "Sir?"

"This is important, damn it! Is Miss Brooks here or not?" Tasuki pressed.

Tilly ducked her head and made the sign of the cross. Tasuki was sure this was the first time she had heard him swear.

'_If I don't find Miaka it won't be the last profanity I say in this house.'_

"No, sir."

"Do you know where she is?" His patience was shredding like the bit of lace at the edge of Tilly's apron.

"She did not say what time she would return, sir."

A prickly relief washed over him. Tilly's reply indicated that Miaka planned to return. The maid continued to avoid his eyes like a disobedient spaniel that has chewed a slipper, and Tasuki's instincts told him that she knew what he needed to hear. "You know where she is, don't you, Tilly?"

Her head snapped up. "I can't say. That is, I don't know, sir." She backed up and drew in a deep breath, and Tasuki could see a definite flicker of fear in her eyes.

"For pity's sake, Tilly, I am not going to hurt you, or Miss Brooks, but I need to speak to her. Now tell me where she has gone."

Tilly's shoulders sagged, and her stiff uniform seemed so lose all of its starch and crispness. "I'm not supposed to say, sir. I promised."

"You promised what?" Apprehension crept up his spine. What could Miaka be doing that she wanted to be kept secret? And who was she doing it with?

"I promised not to tell who she is seeing." Tilly slapped her hand over her mouth and her eyes grew round as gourds.

Tasuki tried to calm his runaway heartbeat. The feeling he refused to acknowledge as jealousy washed over him.

'_Who was she seeing?'_

Something hot and bitter rose in the back of his throat. He drew a deep breath, willing himself to school his featured and did his best to smile at the maid.

"Miss Brooks is our guest." His voice was low, and taut with false control. "We are responsible for her welfare while she is visiting. Surely you can understand that?" He rationalized this for his own as much as the stubborn maid's benefit.

"Ye-yes sir."

"Now tell me, Tilly. _Where has she gone?_" He measured each word, matching the cadence to his thudding heart.

"But I promised, sir!" Her tone was pleading.

"Damn it all to hell! _Tell me."_ He fastened what he hoped was a stern gaze on her face. "I only want to make sure she is all right," he added as an afterthought, when Tilly's face grew pale as snow.

"She went to see Miss Yui, sir." She whispered.

Once more relief flooded through Tasuki's constricted chest. He released the breath he had not been aware he was holding. "Yui's house?"

"Yes, sir. Please don't tell her I told you!" Tilly said, sniffing. "I wouldn't want the young miss to think she can't trust me any more."

"I won't say a thing about where I got the information, Tilly. You have my word on it." Tasuki smiled at the maid. "Thank you.You can go now."

"Yes, sir." Tilly bobbed her head and scurried toward the kitchen, making no effort to hide her relief.

'_Miaka was not leaving. She was only going to visit Yui.'_

A strange new joy settled over him like summer sunshine, and them a new question popped into his head.

'_Why was Miaka swearing Tilly to secrecy about visiting Yui?'_

A premonition of doom swept over him. Knowing Missy as he did had taught him that she would not take Tokaki's high handed, unreasonable exile in good grace.

There was going to be trouble, he was sure of it.

* * *

Tasuki leaned against a black oak tree across the street from Tokaki O'Bannion's house. Indecision ran hot and cold inside him. Should he just go knock on the door and stop all this ridiculous cloak-and-dagger business, or should he remain hidden and observe?

"No, I won't give her away." He answered himself. Hotohori swore that Tokaki had forbidden Miaka to see Yui, and there was no reason to believe he had softened his stance. Going to the door would ruin any chance Miaka had of visiting her friend.

Tasuki frowned at the imposing mansion while he lurked beneath the sheltering old tree across the lane. No matter how good the reason, it still irked him to be spying like this.

His gaze swept idly over the solid brickwork. The ornate façade of plaster and stone needed repair in several places. Tokaki had probably not noticed the grout and mortar were crumbling and falling away. Vines grew abundantly, funding niches and cracks in which to cling, and causing crevices to grow between the bricks. Virginia creepers hung in green profusion and the heady scent of Tokaki's prize roses filled the spring air.

It was quiet, the only noise the droning of yellow-and-black bumblebees tasting the nectar of the flowers. Then suddenly the silence was shattered by a series of excited yips. The black and white bull terrier in the yard next door barked furiously, bouncing on his stiff front legs while his hoarse, raspy yelps echoed though the neighborhood. He shoved his nose through the iron fence that separated his domain from the O'Bannion's, and the hackles rose along his muscled back as he focused intently on something in Tokaki's yard.

A fire? A Burglar?

Tasuki roused himself from his sentry duty. He crossed the street and cautiously crept toward the side of the house, spurred on by the thought that Yui and Miaka might need help.

The little dog barked louder.

As he approached the wall, a carpetbag narrowly missed Tasuki's head and landed at his feet. He looked up to spot the culprit, scanning the bush and trellis that stretched above his head. Midway up, a small bit of white cloth and lace clinging to a branch caught his attention.

A scrap of a woman's petticoat.

He tilted his head and looked higher, then had to stifle a gasp as a familiar feminine backside suddenly appeared over the railing. The voluminous, yellow-plaid skirt billowed around her legs like the pennant on a sailing vessel each time the wind caught it. From his vantage point beneath her, Tasuki had a clear view of her legs, petticoats, lace-trimmed drawers...and an exquisitely rounded bottom.

It was a delicious, tantalizing sight.

Miaka cursed silently as her skirt caught on one of the iron crossbars. She did not wish to wake Yui, who had finally dozed off with a smile on her face. Miaka did not want to erase what had taken an hour to put there.

She looped her arm through the trellis, allowing her weight to hang on her bent elbow while she tugged the fabric free. When she was released and able to move again, a thorn poked her hand. She looked at her palm and discovered the thorn had broken off inside. It stung like liquid fire, and blood began to pool in her palm. While she was looking at the spot the trellis seemed to shiver beneath her weight.

"Silly, it's only your imagination," she chided herself. The strange shudder came again, and even though she assured herself that she was not frightened, she ignored the thorn and started to climb down as fast as she could manage.

Tasuki grinned wickedly as a warm breeze caught the plaid skirt once again and made it flutter out like a sail.

She was coming closer. In fact, she was close enough for him to make out the details of embroidery on the edge of her petticoat ruffles. He thought about letting her know he was there, but he didn't. He just stood there and stared up her dress, like the most lecherous of Peeping Toms, while a sensation akin to the flow of warm honey moved through his veins.

His appreciative grin widened as she came even nearer. Lord almighty, but the woman had a finely shaped backside! Of course, he already knew that about Missy Brooks. He had watched it, encased in trousers and emphasized by leather chaps, on more than one occasion on the Brooks ranch.

But this time was different. _He _was different.

Until now he had never allowed himself to really comprehend the sheer perfection of her womanly form. Perhaps it was the novelty of seeing her in such a feminine get up that had made the difference. Or perhaps it was the absurdity of seeing that same frilled and ruffled form clambering down the trellis like a tomboy

Whatever it was, the impact of watching Missy this way was like an unexpected punch to his belly. A sense of wonder swept over him as he took inventory of each and every asset she possessed. Her legs were incredibly long for someone so small, and each time she placed her foot on another rung and lowered herself downward, the muscles of her thighs moved in a way that made his own body quicken.

Yes, Tasuki thought, it definitely felt like a rock-hard fist had been planted in the middle of his gut-and other parts of him were becoming rock-hard as well.

Hotohori's words came drifting through his consciousness. _'Anybody can see you are in love with Miaka Brooks.'_

Tasuki shook his head at the notion. He wasn't in love-damn it, he couldn't be! He wanted to remain footloose and free to enjoy himself. He would know when he fell in love. It would take his breath away and rob him of sleep, and he wouldn't know which end of the world was up.

No, he wasn't in love, but he was sure as hell enjoying the sight of Miaka Brooks' womanly form above him. She was a beautiful work of art on display, and he fully appreciated the exhibition she was giving- just as any single, red-blooded male in his situation would have done.

The harsh sound of grating metal intruded on his thoughts. The hot flow of lust ebbed and was replaced by the cold reality of fear as he saw the trellis suddenly started to lurch and jerk.

Miaka tightened her grip on the bar, as the lone metal bracket holding the trellis squealed as a thing alive. Tasuki watched in horror as it pulled loose from the ancient and crumbling masonry around the window frame.

She was only halfway down. It was too far for her to jump, and there was nothing else for her to grab onto.

The one rusty bracket that remained in place cracked with a snap. With a kind of disjointed slowness, the top of the heavy iron trellis broke free of the wall. Fragrant blossoms rained down on Tasuki's head while the old iron buckled. The bush and its support swayed away from the solid security of the house, propelled by the weight of Miaka's body.

She was going to fall.


	11. Chapter eleven

Wild Angels

By Amiboshi-chan

Chapter eleven

Tasuki hastily scanned Tokaki's flower bed, sizing up her chances. The drop was not extreme, but there were other dangers. When the mansion was built, Tokaki had hired skilled masons to install thick paving stones around it, with borders of jagged rocks to protect his prized rosebushes. The serrated edges of Vermont granite would rip and pierce Miaka's tender flesh. She'd be killed - or at the very least maimed - if she fell on them.

Her smooth-bottomed shoes slipped off the crossbars that supported her and she gave a muffled cry. He watched helplessly as she lost her grip on the iron crossbar. As if in a hellish nightmare, she fell like a wounded sparrow that could no longer fly. Her yellow-plaid skirt fluttered and flapped like the broken wings of a goldfinch.

Tasuki's heart lurched upwards to his throat and he was consumed by desperation.

He had to do something to save her- and quickly.

Miaka landed against a strong, hard body, the impact driving the air from her lungs in one mighty swoosh. Black stars danced before her eyes as she struggled to remain conscious. She sagged weakly against the muscled chest of her rescuer, trying to drag air into her lungs, while relief folded over her.

"Good lord, Miaka! Are you hurt?"

An all-too-familiar voice roused her from her stunned lethargy. She drew several ragged breaths into her body, and then forced herself to focus on her rescuer. Sure enough, it was Tasuki who cradled her in his arms. "What—what are you doin' here? I mean _doing_ here?" She corrected her faulty speech, feeling a mixture of gratitude, amazement and stubborn disbelief.

One dark brow rose over a jade colored eye. "Saving your life?"

As his mouth slid into a cocky fanged grin, she couldn't decide if she wanted to slap him or kiss him senseless. Her breathing had returned to normal, but strange prickling sensations of heat danced along the backs of her thighs and spine, where his arms supported her. He held her close enough for her to see the dark auburn hairs scattered throughout his fiery mane.

_Too close. Not close enough._

"No, I mean, where did you come from?" She willed herself to stop studying his face, to stop noticing the rough strength of each line and angle. "What are you doing here?"

He shook his head. "The question should be, what were _you_ doing here, climbing down Tokaki's trellis like a cat burglar?"

His voice held a trace of teasing mockery, but his gaze roamed over her face in such an intimate way that made the air catch in the back of her throat. She fancied she could actually feel the caressing touch of it.

"Well, Miaka?" Tasuki's arms contracted and her body shivered in response. "What in God's name were you doing up there?"

"I came to visit Yui."

A muscle beside his eye twitched. "Most guests use the front door."

"I probably would have done the same, except I wasn't exactly invited," she admitted. "As you know, Tokaki has forbidden me to see Yui."

"And we've told you that he'd eventually come around. He is only worried about Yui and looking for someone to blame."

"I didn't want to wait for him to change his mind."

"So you decided to climb the trellis and break your pretty little neck in his rose garden! That seems like an extreme form of revenge, even for you, Miaka." He gave her a lopsided smile.

"I didn't plan to fall," she snapped, but the realization that he had called her pretty took some of the sting from his words. "Don't tease me, Tasuki, not now." She wiggled, thinking he would release her, but his grip only tightened. Tears of humiliation stung her eyes. "I can't take your teasing today! Let me go!"

He didn't.

"I apologize for teasing you. I didn't mean any harm by it." He gave her a warm smile, that made her heart miss a beat. "You scared the hell out of me, honey!"

_Scared? Honey?_

The words battered all of the defenses she'd erected and scattered her thoughts like dried leaves on a strong wind. She looked away, hoping that would clear the heat from her face. "I got in just fine, and the trellis seemed strong enough." She pointed out defensively. "I didn't know it was going to break."

To her surprise, Tasuki chuckled. "I should have words with Tokaki, Lord knows it is almost criminal the way he has let the trellis into his daughter's bedroom fall into disrepair." His grin was wide and wicked. "What is some gallant young swain should want to climb into her bedroom and ends up breaking his neck? It's downright neglectful! I shall speak to him immediately!"

A small, unwilling smile curved Miaka's lips. "You're teasing me again," she noted, as her gaze returned to his too-handsome face.

"I'm just relieved that you are not hurt." His eyes flicked over her once more, and a sensation like a silken ribbon being trailed along her skin remained. "I don't know what I would've done if you'd been hurt."

She shifted restlessly. "You sound almost as if you care."

Tasuki sighed. "What on earth am I going to do about you?" There was an edge of desperation to his question.

"What do you want to do about me?" She whispered.

For a moment his expression was sharp and assessing, but then he smiled tenderly.

"Stop being nice or you will make me cry," she warned.

He ignored her threat and moved his face closer to hers. "You are reckless beyond belief, Missy."

"I am not." She knew he was telling the truth, but for some reason she had to disagree—had to keep fighting him.

"Yes, you are." He inhaled deeply and stared into her eyes for a moment. "And you are driving me to distraction. I believe I will have to marry you to keep you out of trouble."

Before his outrageous words could register, he lowered his head and captured her mouth.

* * *

The last thing Miaka had expected for him to do was to kiss her, but the surprises didn't stop there. Instead of pushing him away, she wantonly wrapped one hand around his strong shoulder, while the other palm kneaded the column of his neck. It felt so natural and so right to be locked in his embrace. 

She opened her lips, drawing in a tiny sigh of satisfaction. Yes, this kiss was the last thing that she'd expected, but it was wonderful and exciting. A flock of butterflies winged their way through her middle, and she managed to keep the nagging question of his fiancée pushed to the far corners of her mind.

He couldn't stop kissing her. Perhaps it was he was afraid that if he did, she'd smack him, or that they would return to the same old silly bickering. Whatever the reason, he held her tight as if to reassure himself that she was solid and not some nymph he had conjured from thin air. As he nibbled her bottom lip, he told himself to let her go, but he was no more able to do it now than he had been able to let her fall.

Slowly, deliberately, he traced the inside of her mouth, committing every delicate impression to memory. Her flavor and scent made a heady combination, innocent and sensual, demure and yet wild as the territory that had spawned her.

_Sugar cookies and lemon tea._

He inhaled deeply, trying to stop his pulse from racing.

_She smells like summer sunshine._

After indulging in a few moments of absolute bliss, he reluctantly pulled back and looked into her dark eyes. They were hazy, like evergreens filtered through thin winter clouds. Her lips were moist and becomingly pink.

She blinked several times, as if waking from a dream. "Put me down now, Tasuki."

He obeyed her order, placed her on her feet and told himself that it had only been a momentary lapse of control and nothing more. It had been the excitement of saving her life. He had just been swept away in the passion and urgency of the moment.

But the more he tried to convince himself of it, the more a nagging fear that something monumental had happened nudged at his conscience. "I'll take you home."

He put his palm at the small of her back, and a hot sensation sizzled through him. Immediately, he jerked his hand away and stared at it, but wasn't really surprised to see it was unchanged. Whatever made his knees go weak and had clouded his judgment was not going to be found in his rough and callused palm, but within the dark, smoky eyes of Miaka Brooks.

Miaka squeezed herself back against the leather seat of the carriage. Each turn and sway brought her knees brushing against Tasuki's legs as he sat in the seat across from her. The innocent contact made her middle twist into knots of desire.

_No, no, no. He is engaged._

What could she have been thinking of? She _hadn't _been, and that was the problem. Even though she knew he was promised to another, and even though she knew his proposal had been preposterous, she had wholeheartedly responded to his kiss. That kind of wanton behavior was unforgivable for a lady here in the city—Yui had said so.

Consarn it all! Just when she was learning to ward off his taunts and silent disapproval, Tasuki had found a new way to baffle her.

_By saving your life and then kissing you?_ a voice inside her head quizzed.

All right, it was good that he had saved her from harm, but why did he have to go and kiss her?

As she watched him from under the protective fringe of her lashes, she thought about her talk with Yui. For the first time she had openly broached the subject of Violet Ashland but Yui had been little help. All she could tell Miaka was that yes, Tasuki had given Violet a ring shortly before he'd left for the Territory. And that a scandal could taint _both_ families' names.

Tasuki's kiss had curled her toes. The simple touching of lips had made her heart beat so hard that for a moment she'd thought she might die from sheer physical pleasure. It had been more potent than the night he'd come into her room. He kissed her in a way that made her soft and vulnerable. And then...he had simply stopped kissing her and had turned colder than ice. She lowered her head and sneaked another glance at him. Had he suddenly remembered Violet? Had he recalled his promise?

Though she was careful not to look straight at him, she needn't have worried about Tasuki noticing her scrutiny; his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on something outside the carriage window. She doubted he was even aware she was there.

A chill swept over her body. The kiss that had addled her brain and turned her blood to liquid fire hadn't done a thing for him.

_Because he loves Violet._

_Damn him_, she thought with entirely too much zeal. _Damn, damn, damn him._

Why did he do it? Why did he give her that bone-melting kiss if it meant nothing? How dare he kiss her like that and then sit and stare out the window as if nothing had happened between them?

He was as unpredictable as a rattler shedding its skin. She turned to stare out her own window, refusing to give him any more notice at all, determined to make that damn kiss as insignificant to her as it was to him—determined to make it the last.

Tasuki knew the moment Miaka turned away. No, that actually wasn't right; he had _felt _her stop looking at him. It was like the caress of spring sunshine being replaced by a bitterly cold winter wind when her sly gaze left him.

_What in hell have I done?_ He asked himself for the twentieth time. How could he have allowed his control to slip like that? This was Missy, for God's sake! No matter what her real name was, no matter how she had altered her appearance, she was still Chichiri's baby sister.

Had he lost his mind? Probably. Certainly while he held her in his arms he was beyond rational thought.

The memory of Hotohori's taunt drifted through his head. A muscle in his jaw jumped in response. He simply could not allow himself to be in love with Miaka until the sordid situation was resolved with Violet, and he could not do _that _until negotiations were complete and the papers signed.

Only then would he be prepared to bring scandal crashing down on his family and friends.

* * *

As soon as the carriage arrived at the brownstone, Miaka pleaded a headache and escaped to the privacy of her room. She could not look at Tasuki and she could not face the O'Bannions with the guilt of what she'd done burning in her mind. 

But the afternoon wore on slowly as the memory of the kiss lingered. Then later, as the moon rose and made its arc across the sky, she still tossed and turned in the lovely canopied bed, repeatedly telling herself that kisses didn't mean a thing—at least not to him—and therefore she couldn't allow them to mean anything to her.

But if that was true, why did she tingle from head to foot each time she thought about how wonderful it was to be held by him? And why did her eyes burn with unshed tears when she thought about him and Violet becoming man and wife?

Miaka was awake to see the first gray streaks of dawn. She forced herself to remain in her room until she hear the sounds of Tilly moving about downstairs, preparing breakfast and opening the house for the day.

Miaka dressed in a simple green twill sprinkled with tiny white flowers and lavender ribbons. Then she spent extra time coiling her hair and twisting it into a chignon, which she covered with a finely woven white net.

By the time she opened her door and stepped out into the hallway, she was in control, determined to act and feel the same as she had before. But when she neared Tasuki's room a combination of dread and hope surged through her. She pause, fingers frozen on the banister, staring at his closed door.

"Oh, damnation, what do I care if I see him?" she asked herself sharply. "I don't. I don't care one whit."

With more confidence and indifference than she really felt, she lifted her chin a notch and marched downstairs. She refused to allow herself to be in a bad mood when the glory of spring was beaming through the windows.

Patricia greeted her from the dining room table as soon as Miaka appeared at the foot of the stairs. "Miaka? Is that you, child? Come in here, dear, and have breakfast with me."

The older woman was in her customary morning attire of a colorful silk wrapper, with her ribbon-tied hair trailing down her back. Watermarked stationary lay near a half-full cup of coffee.

"You are up early." Miaka remarked, as she joined her hostess.

"A message came this morning. I'm surprised you didn't hear all the commotion. The McCarty Company has summoned Donovan and Nakago to Chicago." Patricia sighed, then sipped her coffee.

"Not bad news, I hope." Miaka frowned as she poured, and then laced her coffee with cream and sugar.

Had Tasuki gone to Chicago as well? Was he still upstairs? Would he walk through the door and join them? Questions filled her head until Patricia's voice drew her attention.

"It was a small problem with the shipping business. Donovan has been working on some sort of merger. He never tells me anything, but I think there has been some crisis or another. He rarely discusses these things with me because he thinks I will worry too much." She smiled indulgently. "I do miss him, but I know how much he enjoys his work. The only thing I regret is that they will both miss the party tonight."

"A party?" It was the last thing she felt like doing. Miaka gulped down a swallow of hot coffee as Patricia gave her an odd look.

"The fundraiser for St. Michael's Hospital is this evening."

_How could I have forgotten?_ Miaka chided herself for her lack of concentration. According to Yui, this fundraiser was the biggest social event of the season. "Oh, yes, of course! Yui insisted that my dress for tonight be very special." She said brightly, though the idea of going without her friend saddened her. "but since Yui is ill, I don't know that it's right that I should go..."

Patricia's head snapped up. "Nonsense! Of course you will! In fact, both of us will attend, for I refuse to let Donovan's absence prevent it." Her tone gentled. "Please put your mind at rest—I have it on good authority that Yui's health is much improved since yesterday afternoon, so much so that Tokaki has relented. He was very puzzled by the abrupt change in her health, but has agreed to allow her to resume a normal social schedule as long as she is careful."

Though happiness filled her at the news, the memory of falling from Yui's balcony made Miaka shiver.

"Are you feeling all right, my dear? Are you cold?" Patricia reached out and softly touched the back of the young woman's hand. "You are not coming down with the ague?"

"I'm fine," Miaka assured her. "Just a little chill."

Her hostess looked relieved. "I confess that I am glad to hear it, because I have a special favor to ask of you."

"Of course, anything." She was grateful for anything that would keep her busy and her thoughts away from Tasuki.

Patricia wrote as she spoke. "I need you to take a message to Tasuki."

Miaka's stomach lurched as her coffee threatened to come back up. "Tasuki?" His name was a strangled sound on her lips.

"He evidently left the house before Donovan got the message and could speak to him. Nakago was very reluctant to tell me where he was, but I managed to pry it out of him before he and Donovan left." Patricia's expression was grim, yet triumphant. "I don't know why he made such an issue over Tasuki taking his exercise at the gentlemen's club. My son can get some very odd notions at times."

She smiled then, as if dismissing the thought, folded the piece of stationary and slipped it inside an envelope. "Here is the message for Tasuki. I'll have the carriage brought round when you're ready." She handed the envelope to Miaka. "And if you can, dear, persuade him to come back with you. It's a matter of some urgency."

Miaka stared at the envelope as if it were alive and about to bite her.

Patricia sighed. "I know you two haven't been getting along all that well, but this is rather important to me." She prodded gently.

"Then I am happy to do it," Miaka replied, forcing a smile. After all, it was only half a lie. A deep, hungry part of her longed to see Tasuki, to recapture the tumultuous sensation of that kiss- even though the thought also had her middle flip-flopping like a catfish in shallow water.

* * *

When she walked through the main lobby of the gentlemen's club, the stares of the men inside made Miaka feel like some sort of polecat. The scents of bay rum, brandy and tobacco smoke hung in the air as several sets of eyes followed her progress. One elderly man, bald as an egg, looked up from his paper. She nodded and gave him what she hoped was a proper smile. 

"Excuse me, I am looking for—" she began.

"I know what you're looking for." He interrupted, laying his paper in his lap.

"You do?" Miaka frowned.

"You are not the first lady to come _looking_ this morning." The man's eyes held a knowing twinkle.

"Not the first one?" She repeated, dumbly. Were other women looking for Tasuki?

_Violet Ashland._

A jolt of possessiveness ripped through her, and she struggled to stamp it down. She had to stop this, get a rein on her emotions. Damn it, he was _engaged!_

"Straight down the corridor, and to the left." The old man directed. "And enjoy yourself." Chuckling, he lifted his paper and went back to reading.

Miaka stood there for a moment, puzzling over the bizarre commentary. The old gentleman had said he knew who she was looking for, so perhaps Patricia had sent word that she was coming to find Tasuki? That had to be it, for she was sure this place was not accustomed to ladies unexpectedly cropping up for a visit.

Putting the matter out of her mind, Miaka left the man to his reading. Her heels clicked on the diamond-shaped patterns of lustrous gray-and-white marble, the sound echoing sharply off the polished stone walls. A bright shaft of light from a set of double doors on the left bisected the hallway. She turned and went through them, surprised to find herself in a room of enormous proportions.

A square platform constructed of padded canvas had been roped off in the center of the room. Rows of chairs were positioned around it, and young women of every size and shape sat in them, gadding with each other and closely observing the pair of men standing inside the cordoned off space.

Miaka scanned the group until she was sure Violet Ashland wasn't there. Something like relief washed over her, but she shook it off and tilted her head to take in what the other women were watching so avidly. Her view wasn't the best, but she could see that the men in the ring were now shaking hands like civilized gentlemen.

From that moment on, things got stranger and stranger. The two men went to opposite corners, then, at a shouted command, they came towards each other once more. Bouncing around like Mexican jumping beans, they began to throw punches, each man obviously trying hard to land a telling blow.

Miaka had never seen anything like it. She had witnessed plenty of fistfights, both the sober, serious kind and the drunken, foolish kind, but she had never watched anything like these two galoots doing it for fun. Having two brothers and Soi in the family had insured at least two donnybrooks a month, but never in Miaka's born days had men pranced around in their long underwear like a couple of riled up banty roosters while women oohed and aahed at their antics.

New York City was a mighty odd place.

Soon the men were standing toe-to-toe, trading glancing blows that mostly missed their mark due to the agility of both opponents. At last, the taller of the men landed a hit that made her unconsciously wince. His red-haired adversary staggered backward until the ropes surrounding the ring halted his momentum; the hemp cords hummed with the impact of his hard, muscled body.

The man sagged against the ropes for a moment, then recovered himself. Pulling himself to his feet, he spat, "I suppose you think that makes us even?"

The rough timbre of his voice sent shivers skipping over Miaka's arms and down her spine.

_Tasuki_.

A smooth, amused-sounding voice replied. "Hardly even, but it's a start."

_Hotohori._

Silently cursing, Miaka turned away from the spectacle. The fools had lost their damn minds!


	12. Chapter twelve

**Hello again! This is Amiboshi, back with another chapter of Wild Angels! About dang time!**

**Anyway, thanks to KittyLynne as always for a wonderful editing job, and for somehow managing to put up with my sloth-like writing pace. **

**Sorry for the delay! Enjoy!**

Wild Angels

By Amiboshi-chan

Chapter Twelve

A flash of movement caught Tasuki's eye as he laughed and pushed himself off the rope.

_Miaka._

She disappeared out the door in a blur of green fabric and a flash of white petticoats. He felt a tug on his heart which shocked him.

"Uh-oh, it looks as if we have been caught in the act," Hotohori said cheerfully. "Of course, I am not the one in love with the dark-haired vixen, so-"

"Shut up, Hotohori," Tasuki vaulted out of the ring and grabbed a towel, then rushed past the surprised female spectators, their murmurs of embarrassment and appreciation humming in his ears.

By the time he reached the hallway Miaka had covered a considerable distance, but luckily for him she had lost her direction. She was practically running toward the wrong end of the corridor. He knew the moment she realized her mistake. Her bustle jiggled as she pulled herself up short. Her shoulders went taut and Tasuki could almost hear the string of epithets bubbling in the back of her throat.

"Have you lost your way?" He asked, in a voice too sweet to be sincere.

She rounded on him with all the fury of an Atlantic squall. There was no other way to exit the building than to pass him, and it was evident that was the last thing she wanted to do. He grinned, waiting her to admit that fact to herself. To his disappointment, she stayed where she was, lifting her chin a notch and stiffening like a captured hare.

_All right, my stubborn little spitfire. I will come to you. This time._

She held her ground while he moved toward her. Each step he took narrowed the distance and intensified the tension between them. He looped the towel around his neck, trying his damndest to ignore the lovely contour of her jaw and the smooth column of her graceful neck where her pulse beat under skin softer than the finest French silk.

He stopped two feet away from her just to get his pulse under control. Sparks of emotion seemed to fly from her in all directions, burning him as they slid by. Though he'd left the boxing ring behind, he was still fighting two impulses- one to turn tail and run, the other to yank her into his arms.

"Why are you here, Miaka? Did Nakago tell you about this?" He would wring his friend's neck, if that were so...

"No."

Now his curiosity was really peaked. That tempestuous look in her eyes was causing havoc to his insides. He took another step closer, feeling as if he was stalking a quarry.

_But what will you do if you catch her?_

"You came here alone? Were you looking for me?" Out of vanity he secretly wished that were true, but he suspected something different. "Or perhaps...Hotohori?"

The urge to kiss her was overtaking his mind. He fought the desire by digging his fingers deeply into the thick ends of towel looped around his neck, all the while praying that she would not drop her eyes low enough to glimpse the evidence of his stirring arousal beneath the thin fabric of his trousers.

"I was looking for you." The admission seemed to cause her physical pain.

"Oh." Something hot and liquid filled his middle. "Why?"

He moved closer. Miaka backed up tight against the stone wall.

_Trapped._

Her eyes flicked over his chest and left a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. He wished she would stop looking at him like that. No... he wished she would _never_ stop looking at him like that. Hell, he didn't know _what_ he wished anymore, he realized, as he gazed into her hypnotic dark eyes.

"Tasuki?" Her voice drew his gaze to her outstretched hand. There, within the grip of her very ladylike glove, was a small white envelope. "I came to deliver this to you."

He subdued the impulse to grab her hand and pull her to his chest, and snatched the envelope from her instead. "Who recruited you to be a messenger?" He asked lightly, hoping he could diffuse the electrically charged mood surrounding him.

-

"Mrs. O' Bannion." Miaka took a certain amount of pleasure when Tasuki's eyebrows arched in surprise. His jade-colored eyes were burning with restless energy and...

_Desire?_

"A message from Patricia?" He unfolded the flap and read the card. One side of his mouth tilted upward. "This sounds ominous. What does she wish to talk to me about?"

"I have no idea." Miaka's gaze meandered over the breadth of his shoulders, lingering on the pale jagged scar he had earned saving her life for the first time.

"Healed pretty well, don't you think?" He asked abruptly.

Her eyes snapped to his face. "What did?" Her voice was too breathy, too _interested_.

"The scar. Chichiri did a fine job of stitching me up."

She realized with a start he had seen her staring at the scar...

And the deep corded muscles of his upper arms...

And his bared torso...

And every inch of his exposed flesh.

_Dear Lord._

Heat flooded her cheeks and she fought for some semblance of control. "Yes, my brother has a real nice hand with a needle." Her voice cracked; her throat burned. She wished her jaunty bonnet had a veil so she might draw it over her face and prevent people from seeing her. "Your eye is beginning to swell." She added. Her fingers came up automatically, and before she had time to stop herself, her gloved fingers had gingerly touched him. He flinched, and she drew back as if she had been struck.

She wanted to stop the fluttering inside her belly. She didn't like the strange tension that lay between them. "Why have you and Hotohori been fighting?" A muscle in Tasuki's jaw flinched, while his eyes narrowed. "I am not stupid, Tasuki! This is not the first time you two have fought, is it? Hotohori had a shiner the other day, and you had barked knuckles..." She pinned him with a smug gaze.

"Boxing. Exercise, nothing more," he lied. _What would her lips taste like today? Would they be flavored with sugar cookies and lemon tea?_

"I see," Miaka murmured.

He studied her face and wished her hair were free of the white netting. He could almost feel the weight of the dark locks between his fingers as he imagined unpinning her chignon. His belly began to tie itself into a tight knot. "Then again...what if I told you that we had been fighting over you? Tell me, Miaka." His voice was a husky purr of sensuality as he stared down at her. "What would you say if I told you we were doing battle to see which one of us would get to ... say, propose to you?"

Her eyes widened. He took a step closer. She tried to retreat, but her back was against a cold wall of polished stone.

She could not run away.

He closed the space between them and placed his hands on either side of her shoulders, trapping her within the circle of his bare arms. He inhaled deeply, drinking in the light floral scent she was wearing. Heat emanated her from her body and warmed his arms, his chest, his heart.

"What would you say?" He leaned in close to her.

"I would say that one of you had better remember that he already has a fiancee." She tried to return his gaze, but it was too much for her to withstand. Her eyes slid away from his.

He wanted her to look at him again, so he could study the gold flecks around her lovely green irises. "What if I told you all that nonsense about Violet Ashland being my fiancee is a lie?"

Miaka's eyes snapped back to his face and held. "I would... I would have to hear it said in her presence."

_Was it a lie?_

"Can't you trust me? If I say it's a lie, can't you believe me?"

"No."

In a lightning-quick movement she ducked beneath his arm. Tasuki was left holding nothing but hair. He turned to her as the delicious warmth from her body faded away, and stared at her rigid back. "Why not?"

Miaka was breathing heavily, and even more raggedly than he was. Without turning around, she spoke again. "Because I want to believe it too much." Then she started walking as fast as she could toward the exit.

-

He stood there, watching her walk away. What exactly had she meant by that statement?

Missy, Miaka... he knew her in many guises, but somehow this woman who fled from him was a tantalizing stranger, a delicious mystery he yearned to solve.

At that moment he had to laugh aloud at the irony of the situation. There was no mystery as to how he felt about Missy- he could deny it until Judgement Day and it wouldn't change a thing. Hotohori had been right. Nakago had been right. _He was in love with Miaka Brooks_. It had taken the Territorial wildcat coming all the way to New York before he could admit it.

Now he just needed to settle things with Violet Ashland so he could start convincing Miaka.

The ride to the telegraph office seemed to take forever, but once Tasuki had sent the message to Nakago a strange sort of calm settled over him. Now that he had decided on a course of action, the whole world looked different. He was going to court Miaka Brooks- court her, woo her, and win her. And he was going to start as soon as he had taken care of the rumors Violet had so artfully kept circulating through New York society. He still had not figured out what her game was, but he intended to find out tonight, at the charity drive.

-

Miaka fumbled with the ribbons on her chemise, trying for the third time to make a bow. She didn't want to admit that the episode with Tasuki at the gentlemen's club had affected her, but neither could she put the incident out of her mind.

There had been a moment, when he had trapped her against that wall, that her heart felt as if it would leap out of her chest. She had inhaled the manly musk of his body, and something akin to

lightning had seared the innermost parts of her soul. She had noticed the color of his eyes, the tilt of his brow, all the things that made him Tasuki McCarty, and wanted to melt in his arms.

At that moment, she would have given him anything- her body, her soul... her love.

"I am such a fool." She told her reflection. She had become moonstruck. Tasuki was a charmer. He had broken more hearts than could be counted, if even half of what Yui told her was true. And he had never actually said that he was not engaged to Violet Ashland.

_What if I told you it was a lie?_

She stared into her own eyes.

Tasuki had asked her to trust him, but what did that mean? How could she trust him when she couldn't even trust herself to do the right thing? When he was near her she felt like a drunken idiot, incapable of rational thought, unable to uphold her own code of honor.

"Damn it!" She swore. "Damn him!" It rubbed against her Brooks grain to admit that he had gotten under her skin. "I won't let it happen again! I won't become a simpering fool and be a party to him betraying another woman's heart!"

She picked up the emerald green, taffeta moire gown and shook out the wrinkles in the underskirt. It weighed nearly ten pounds. Ten pounds of glistening elegance that Yui promised would win her every man's attention. With a sigh, Miaka started at the bottom, gathering yards of material and lace into her hands until she had cleared an opening for her head. It took some squirming, but finally the gown settled on her shoulders. The weight of the full skirt pulled the rest of it down around her hips with a heavy swish.

At least, she reasoned, by attending the party with Patricia she would be spared any further teasing from Tasuki tonight. He would not dare to take liberties in front of Mrs. O' Bannion.

With that thought to comfort her she brushed her hair and waited for Tilly to arrive and help her with the hundred other details of her grooming that still partially mystified her. As the maid worked, Miaka tried to clear her mind of Tasuki and think only of the party. She was determined to look her best and act the part of a fine lady, even if she had never felt less like doing so.

An hour later, Tilly was still fussing over each ruffle and bit of lace at the bottom of her skirt.

"Oh, dear, it is almost time to go," Miaka whispered breathlessly. She had managed to subdue thoughts of Tasuki and replace them with the happy prospect of seeing Yui. In fact, she had silently vowed to steer clear of all men this evening- Tasuki, Hotohori and anybody else in trousers. She was resolved to find a quiet corner where she and Yui could spend the evening talking about something besides men.

And perhaps if Tokaki saw her keeping Yui quiet, he would soften his attitude toward her and lift his ban on her visiting his daughter. It was certainly something to which she could look forward.

"Yes?" She called, when she heard a knock on her door.

"Are you ready, dear?" Patricia peeked inside. The glow of gaslight from the hallway reflected off her snowy curls and the diamonds at her throat and ears. She looked cool and richly elegant in her plum-colored satin gown.

"Patricia, you are just beautiful!" Miaka exclaimed sincerely.

"Thank you, dear. And you- there is a glow about you..." the older woman said, as she stepped into the room. "You have been seeing a lot of young Hotohori." Her eyebrows rose inquiringly. "Could it be that love has brought a maidenly flush to your cheeks?"

"I don't think so, Patricia," Miaka murmured. She turned away and busied herself in front of the mirror. _Do really I look so different? Am I ...in love?_

Miaka banished the notion from her mind and focused on her gown. "I believe Chichiri would have a fit of apoplexy if he saw me in a dress cut this low," she mumbled. The green taffeta moire shimmered like the head of a mallard duck, the bodice barely covering enough of her chest for modesty.

Patricia laughed. "Fortunately for him your brother is not here, so he will be spared apoplexy." She smoothed one wayward curl from her guest's temple. "We'd better go or we'll be too late to be considered fashionable."

Miaka gathered her pale green, elbow-length gloves and followed Patricia downstairs. There, she stopped and looked in the downstairs mirror, still wondering if there was something different about the way she looked. However, another errant curl soon required her attention, and she was busy with it when Tasuki appeared behind her.

Her heart leapt to her throat. He was dressed in a back tuxedo. The shiny points of jet studs dotted the front of his ermine white shirt. The sharp, clean lines of his form-fitting coat emphasized the width of his shoulders. A black top coat was draped over one arm.

She whirled around to face him.

He stared at her, unblinking, while she studied his face. His left eye was a little swollen and discolored from the morning with Hotohori, but rather than detracting from his looks, the black eye only made him look more manly, more dangerous and more irresistible than ever. He wore the ruddy glow of the Territory, and yet was every inch the dashing New York gentleman. As she stared at him, she began to feel as attractive as a mud hen, not to mention as restless as the wind that blew over the Brooks Ranch.

How could she ever ignore this man? How could she not?

"You look magnificent He said.

Before she could reply, Patricia appeared and Tasuki courteously turned to greet her. But somehow Miaka knew that his attention was still focused on her, and not the older woman.

Pleasantries were exchanged, and then it was time to go. Nevertheless, Tasuki came to an abrupt halt as he reached the door, and turned back to face Patricia, his face pinched into a frown.

"No, this won't do. Miaka cannot go out in that condition."

"Tasuki!" Patricia's eyes widened. "How can you say such a thing?"

Miaka's heart fell to her feet. She lifted her chin and did her best to hide the pain Tasuki's remark had caused, as she stared into narrowed jade eyes. Why had he told her she looked magnificent if he objected to her appearance? She wasn't certain she could hold back the hot tears that were stinging the backs of her eyelids.

Tasuki's expression softened. His eyes roamed over Miaka's body, savoring each curve, each valley and plane of her form as he played out the silly charade. He knew she would never accept anything from him if he gave it to her in the usual fashion. "I am surprised you did not see the difficulty, Patricia." He added.

Patricia turned and allowed her eyes to skim over the younger woman. "I fail to what you mean..." She looked back at him, puzzled and flustered. "I think she looks stunning."

"She is going out practically _naked._" His eyes focused on Miaka's cleavage and he felt his loins tighten in that familiar way.

"Tasuki!" Patricia exclaimed, now looking outraged.

Miaka's bottom lip quivered.

Tasuki kept a straight face while he pulled a long, slender box from the folds of his coat. "But I have the remedy for that right here." He opened the box with a pop and drew out a string of lightning. "Turn around, Miaka." The sound of his husky demand made her stomach fall.

_How could she refuse him anything?_

His bare fingers grazed her collarbone, leaving a trail of molten heat that was immediately replaced by the chill of metal and cool glittering stones.

The mirror showed that a delicate row of emeralds and diamonds now rested against her flesh. Tasuki leaned close enough for her to feel the whisper of his breath across her earlobe as he fastened the clasp. "Trust me," he murmured, so only she could hear.

"See, Patricia? Now she is ready to go out!" He declared, as he straightened.

"My stars, Tasuki, that necklace is absolutely stunning!" Patricia gasped, then moved forward to give him an approving pat on the cheek. "What a lovely gesture! You can be so nice- when you want to be."

Miaka's gloved fingers skimmed along the shining stones. "I-I can't accept this! I can't take something like this from a man who isn't..." _free_ _to love me _"...who isn't family."

"Nonsense! Weren't you the one who pointed out to Hotohori that we were practically like family?" One brow rose as Tasuki smiled. "I believe you compared us to cousins?"

"Well, yes, but I-"

He held up his hand to silence her. "No more buts. It looks beautiful on you."

Miaka turned to gaze at herself and Tasuki standing behind her in the looking glass. "Th...Thank you. I...I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything." He replied softly. "Yet."

Patricia glanced at them both in confusion, but then she shrugged. "We'd better go. It is getting late."

It was with difficulty that Tasuki stifled a smile of satisfaction, as he escorted the women to the waiting carriage. Seeing Miaka wearing his gift had been worth terrifying Tilly into telling his what color Miaka's gown was, and then rushing around to the jeweler to find the perfect piece.

So far, his plan had played out perfectly. If fate continued to be on his side, this would be the night when all the misunderstandings between he and Miaka Brooks would be swept away.

-

The trio traveled in relative silence. Patricia seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts, and Miaka had been virtually tongue-tied ever since Tasuki had whispered in her ear.

_Trust me._

Within a quarter hour the carriage turned up a long torch-lit driveway. Tasuki roused himself and gestured toward the lawn, which was illuminated by the glow from the moon as well as from dozens of gaslights.

"Tatara must have spent half his fortune on this," Tasuki remarked dryly.

Miaka swallowed hard. This was the biggest gathering she had attended since coming to New York. Her old fears about appearing gauche and less than ladylike nipped at the corners of her mind, but she pushed them aside, determined to conquer her insecurities once and for all.

As the carriage rolled along the paving stones of the driveway she got a better look at the house beyond. Torches burned along the walk, bordering the edge of the spacious lawn all the way to imposing marble steps that were flanked by a pair of carved stone lions.

"I hope Tatara has not squandered all of his fortune." Patricia smiled. "I would like a bit of it for the hospital. I intend to spend the evening persuading him to endow St. Michael's."

Tasuki chuckled and shook his head. "I should have known there was a reason you insisted I come along. Do you think you will need reinforcements?"

Miaka's eyes darted to Patricia's face. The older woman lowered her lashes as if she might be a little embarrassed. "No, I do not. I want you to spend the evening with Miaka. It would be unthinkable for her to attend a function like this unescorted." She turned her gaze upon Miaka. "I hope you don't mind, dear, but it is very important that the hospital receive some money."

Miaka knew she shouldn't allow herself to look at Tasuki. But even as she thought it, her eyes met his. A river of molten passion seemed to pass between them. "It's all right, Patricia. I don't mind." She murmured.

"I promise I won't leave her side for a single moment." Tasuki said, his hot eyes lowering to rake over her.

"I am so pleased you two are getting along." Patricia said.

-

True to his word, Tasuki stayed at Miaka's side through the ritual of being received by the host and hostess. Yui was escorted by a stern-faced Tokaki, who made sure she went directly to the most comfortable looking couch. He cast one dark gaze Miaka's way, and she knew that her hope of talking to Yui all evening was a hollow one. Tokaki had not softened his opinion of her, and now she was saddled with Tasuki.

"Shall we dance?" Tasuki whispered into her ear he grasped her arm, just as he had done at Ellen's wedding, and then maneuvered her through the maze of couples. Before she knew what was happening his unyielding arm was at the small of her back, drawing her close to him. Then he tilted up her chin and looked deep into her eyes.

"Remember, I am good.. Put yourself in my hands."

As the started to spin out onto the dance floor, she wondered if he was talking about his dancing.

During dance after dance Miaka stared at Tasuki's face and tried to deny her feelings. A sensation, as if she were falling from some great height-much higher than Yui's balcony-engulfed her. Just when she felt so dizzy she was unsure of her legs, he stopped and pulled her through a series of halls and doorways. Soon the noise and the crowd were far behind.

They stood in a quiet alcove where a fountain bubbled water from a urn held by a winged cherub. Plants of every variety surrounded them. Tall trees created a green canopy overhead. It was a magical place, peaceful and secluded.

Miaka let out a sigh of relief while calm settled over her. She looked up and found Tasuki watching her with a speculative expression.

"It is time we had a talk, Miaka," he said.

Her fingers kept straying to the necklace, while doubts and suspicions as to why he had given it to her flitted in and out of her head.

"It suits you." Tasuki said, in a voice that was smoother and more potent than aged whiskey.

Miaka stared at him, mesmerized by the liquid green of his eyes. "Why did you do it?"

"Why did I do what?" He cocked his head. She wondered if his vision was impaired by the swelling of his eye.

"Agree to be my escort." She cleared her throat, but the lump remained. "And give me this necklace."

He took her hand and led her to a stone bench, then pulled her down beside him, shoving the fullness of her skirt away so he could sit very, very close. She found herself staring at the strong muscles of his thigh nudging against hers while he spoke.

"Don't you understand, little spitfire? I would do much more for you than that."

She looked up, startled as he drew her near. As he covered her mouth with his lips, she suddenly realized, with a sharp wrenching in her chest, exactly what it was that she wanted from Tasuki McCarty.

She wanted his heart. A heart that was pledged to another.

-

Bonus: Wild Angels FAQ

I've received numerous emails containing questions about the Brooks and McCarty families. Since they've come into play a bit more than I originally intended, here's a bit of info on the dear loved ones of our favorite duo.

_Where is Tasuki's family? How are they acquainted with the O'Bannions?_

The McCarty and O'Bannion families are associates in the shipping industry. Though originally from New York, Tasuki's parents now oversee the business from Chicago- where Donovan and Nakago are now.

_How come we never meet Miaka's parents?_

The Brooks ranch is ran by Chichiri, Miaka's brother, which indicates an absence of their parents. Maybe they're dead. It is the 'wild west'... perhaps they're outlaws. (Giggles with those who read the original idea behind _Wild Angels_) The point is, they don't play a significant part in the story, so I don't have much of a background developed for them. If the Brooks/McCarty adventures continue into future stories, maybe I'll go a little deeper there. (Muses at the possibilities...)

_How many siblings does Miaka have?_

We've met two so far. Chichiri is the eldest, and a mentor for both Miaka and Tasuki. Suboshi is mentioned in the first chapter. He is Miaka's younger brother. We've also mentioned Soi, the only other female amongst them. There is also one more, so that makes five.

_Who is the other Brooks sibling?_

That's for me to know and you to find out later, isn't it?


End file.
